


Batman - Purge

by Minaarchangel



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 53,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minaarchangel/pseuds/Minaarchangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vicious serial killer is hunting down Gotham City's finest, Joker has escaped from Arkham, and Killer Croc seems to be lurking in the shadows.  Batman must protect his city, the people who count on him, and a woman from Metropolis in the middle of it all without losing his life, or his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

The body had ceased to burn and was now just smoking in the few scraps of blue clothing that were left around the shriveled corpse. He grunted as he got some soot and ash on his glove as he leaned down and cut off the thumb of the corpse. It was just the right side, and dropped easily into the manilla envelope that would eventually hold the DVD of his work. Turning away from the body, he brought the camera back to his face and spoke the words he had written out the night before. It was time for the city to know him, for the press to forget all their little nicknames. He was not the Firebug or the Copkiller. He was not defined by their pitiful ideas of what was frightening and monstrous. He had a higher purpose.

Gotham was a city in ruin. Despite the best efforts of those who fought for good, crime ran rampant. Their supposed savior was a man who hid behind a mask and a cape, unable to show himself because he was either as evil as the rest of the corrupt officials of the city, or because he was too cowardly to take control of Gotham City. The police were worse, and had to be made an example of. In the end, there was very little that would really help. Well, except, perhaps, for him.

He would change the city. He would take control after showing the Gothamites the corruption they supported. He would bring them to their knees, and at the end of it, they would thank him. Removing the DVD from the camera, he wrote on it with a black sharpie, and then put it in a clear case. Into the envelope it went, and as he walked out of the junkyard, he dropped it into a mail box. It would get to Commissioner Gordon. He would be taken seriously and slowly he would work the evil, the cancerous cells of the city out of Gotham. Then it would be safe again. 

Then, it would be pure, as it should have been.

Frowning at the corpse, he removed the pieces of tire slowly, doing his best to only rip away chunks of flesh when he had to, though it was easy with as reduced as the body had become. Using an old tarp he found the other day, he wrapped the body in it, and dragged the considerably lighter weight from where it had been lying, heading towards the manhole cover that was deep within the junkyard. 

Grunting, he dropped the body near the cover, and wedged a crowbar beneath the circle of metal, pushing it up so he could roll it away. There was a shaft of darkness in the hole, impossible to see down this late at night, dark and impenetrable to his eyes. But that's where people like his partner belonged. Even the wicked had their uses at times. He walked over to the body, and kicked it so that it would unwrap from the tarp towards the opening into the sewer.

The body rolled with each kick, and by the time it got to the hole, it was ready to drop down, the head and one thin, burnt arm hanging over the side. Walking forward, one more kick sent the body down into the sewer. But instead of a meaty thunk or a splash of displaced water, there was a soft whisper of the corpse being caught. After a moment, a voice, gravelly and throbbing with hatred, floated up into the night air.

“...Too well done.”

He frowned, “The next will be raw. I had a point to make.”

The nasty voice laughed. “Very well.”

He sighed and replaced the manhole cover, and begun to slowly gather his things. The sun would be up soon. Gotham was so much uglier in the day.


	2. The Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

James Gordon, Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department and family man, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose against the oncoming headache. Nothing had gone right that week. First another sighting of Killer Croc in the sewers, and then two more officers that had gone to their deaths at the hands of the son of a bitch that had been throwing Molotov cocktails at officers after making phoney nine one one calls, the bodies never completely found, just pieces. Finally he was under pressure to find out who was stealing stuff from Wayne Industries warehouses, leaving corpses in their wake. It was hard on his heart to tell women that they were widows, that children were less one parent. Hell, Jacobs' daughter was now an orphan because of the bastard.

Sitting down at his desk, Jim put his glasses back on and opened up the file folder on his desk, looking through the photos and police reports that had been collected about the freak that the newspapers had been trying to put a name to, though nothing had stuck yet. There was a knock on the door, and looking up, he saw an uniformed officer, the man looking as if he had more bad news for the man.

"Yes, Keller?" Jim asked, trying not to sound exhausted.

"Dr. Avery Reinhart is here sir." He said quietly. "She is in the office you had cleaned out for her."

"Thank you." Gordon replied.

Finally, something good. The criminologist he had borrowed from Metropolis had arrived. After what happened to the last one, he was having a hard time finding anyone to come in and go through the files that were piled up in the spare office. He desperately needed someone to shine a little insight into what was going on. Not even Batman had been able to find the culprit to the police murders, and he was almost always on top of the new psychopaths in Gotham. Getting up, Jim left his office, waving off the reporters that were hovering around the entrance to the station. He had no time for every cub reporter that wanted his or her scoop.

He walked through the desks messy with papers and neat because they were no longer occupied, through the people who were on phones, on cell phones, on computers and chatting, through trash cans overflowing with paper cups that smelled of day old coffee and food wrappers from lord only knew when. He managed to sidestep detectives that "just wanted a minute" and a reporter that had snuck past under the pretense of using the bathroom to stop in front of the office that he had set aside for Dr. Reinhart. He had not had the chance to get her name painted on the door, but it would happen within the next week.

From her record, Jim expected a forty-something woman who was going gray, perhaps a little plump, with mussed hair that tried to get into a neat bun and eyes that had seen far too many case files. He was surprised to stop in the doorway of the office to see a slender young woman in her mid or late twenties finishing plugging in the computer on the desk, and then brushing off her long fingers. Avery Reinhart was a tall woman, perhaps five seven without her three inch heels, but with them, she was close to his own height. Her long hair was a rich auburn shade that was pulled into a long French braid that fell past her shoulders in a thick rope. Her dark green suit was well tailored and had a long slit up the back of the skirt, revealing shapely legs and sensible black heels with bows on the toes. 

She turned around and smiled, her badge hanging on a silver ball chain around her neck, against a pearl colored blouse beneath the suit jacket that made her pine eyes seem darker than they were. Jim held out a hand to her.

"Jim Gordon."

Avery took his hand. "Dr. Avery Reinhart. Thanks for having an office for me."

Jim nodded. "We're grateful to have you. We need your help."

"On the firebug case, right?" She asked, her grip firm but not the kind where she was trying to prove that she was stronger than him. "I guess it doesn't have an official name yet."

"Amongst other things, but that takes first priority."

Avery crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "He's killing cops, and doing it to make some kind of point, which means he's not going to stop on his own. I would be putting it first even if you hadn't told me to."

Gordon nodded in approval. "Glad we're on the same page. I..."

He was interrupted as an officer tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at the uniformed man, who was deathly pale as he stood there, holding a package in his hands.

"What is it?" Jim asked, afraid to know.

The officer held out the packet that was addressed to the police commissioner in clean type from a typewriter with a weak E key, the bottom of the package wet. Avery was at his side immediately, with the latex gloves on that he had seen crime scene folks wear, taking the package from him. She went into her office and slid out the clear plastic DVD case inside, the disc marked with black block letters that said "WATCH ME" and something that looked like a charred bit of hotdog. Turning on the freshly plugged in computer, she opened the DVD case and slid the disc into the drive, waiting while it booted up slowly.

The disc began to play, Jim moving to the young woman's side, looking at the screen as the media player opened. The DVD started from a fuzzy white screen, and there was nothing but a man, beaten and bloody until his face was unrecognizable. But what was recognizable was his dark blue police uniform as he sat, propped up against an ancient, broken down car somewhere in the Gotham dump. A figure, huge and hulking, limped onto the screen holding a large truck tire. The new figure was masked with a heavy hood over his head, leaving the camera unable to see his face at all, and he was silent as he forced the police officer's head and shoulders through the tire, until it forced his arms tightly against his side and left him unable to move. 

There was a moment where the figure in black left the screen, and then returned with a gas can in his hands, as well as a large auger with a wide bit on it. He drilled into the sides of the tire with the auger, leaving holes around the unfortunate officer, which he then began to pour gasoline into. Jim glanced over at Avery, keeping an eye on her while the movie continued to play. Her face was unreadable, as if she were cutting herself off from anything but the clinical. It made sense, as she was working, but it was hard to look at the brick wall her face could become. 

The man in black walked up to the police officer, and said something inaudible to the camera watching them, and then lit a large fireplace match and stuck it into one of the petrol-filled holes. Flames, instant and bright orange, exploded out of the tire and enveloped the cop, who immediately began to scream. It was then that the officer tried to get up to roll himself over and it became apparent to the two watching that his legs had been broken. The camera's focus never left the cop, who screamed until his hair was burned away and his face disappeared into a puddle of black flesh, the rest of his body burning then. Eventually the tire withered with the body, leaving nothing more than pieces and a blackened corpse, and the figure in black went up to it, cutting off a finger. He then approached the camera, letting it settle on his oddly colored russet eyes.

"Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean."

The camera moved and it was lifted up to slide over the corpse like a pornographer lovingly caressing the thigh of a partner, taking in every flake of charred flesh, and the mouth, twisted open in an eternal scream, teeth black and hanging from shriveled gums. It came back up to his face again.

"I will burn it all clean. I will purge the city of this boil, this sore of corruption. I will be the purge."

The DVD ended then, and Jim glanced down at the desk, realizing that the blackened thing on the desk was the officer's thumb. Obviously Avery had figured that out as well, and even as she professionally put it into an evidence bag, he could see her hands shaking. Jim went to the door and ordered off a pair of officers to the junkyard to see if anything had been found of the corpse yet, and then returned to the office, where he found the criminologist scribbling on a pad of paper.

"This wasn't the way I wanted your first day to start."

She shook her head as she kept writing. "But it is. So I'll dive in head first. I need to analyze the video. Is there anything else?"

Impressed with her ability to bounce back, he breached the subject that he always had problems with, despite the way that the subject had become part of his every day life. "You may have heard about our vigilante."

Avery glanced up. "The Batman. Yes, I'm familiar. I'm from Metropolis after all. We have our own flavor of that going around, but it comes in blue."

He nodded. "If he asks you for information, my policy has always been complete police cooperation."

"I can imagine that hasn't made you too popular."

"I do what I can to protect the city. And he protects the city."

After a moment, she nodded in reply. "As you say, commissioner."

"Jim's fine." He said immediately, hoping he had not just scared away the desperately needed analyst that seemed to be taking a video of brutal human torture and murder better than his previous criminologist would have.

"Then you call me Avery. Your secretary already put your cell phone and office phone into my cell for me. When I have anything, I'll let you know."

"I want to catch this Purge as quickly as possible."

"So do I." She replied softly, revealing that she was still quite shaken to her core.

With another nod of approval, Jim left her to her work, knowing he would eventually have to release a statement to the press. The more horrible he could make Purge sound, the more apt the man would be to screw up and do something to get himself caught. He would talk it over with Batman later, but for now, he had to get something done. Back to the files he went, trying to ignore the ache in his chest for the now dead police officer.


	3. Last Quiet Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Smoke from the stacks outside the old Axis Chemicals plant rose into the sky, mixing with the clouds already there. Batman hovered over the building, looking for some signs of life, but saw nothing but the night shift cleaning floors and making sure that things were still running smoothly. It had been several months since Joker had been put back into Arkham, behind the layers of bullet-proof plexiglass, with cameras watching him every minute of the day and night. The chemical plant, a favorite hide out of his, had gone back into production.

Maybe he was just there to make sure that nothing else went wrong. It seemed unlikely that anyone else would be interested in Joker's old home. Especially after what had been found in some of the subbasements. But he knew better. He knew that it would attract other insane criminals, just as it had tempted Joker. It would be a place of horror and disquieting memories for years to come. He also knew that he felt guilty over the people he had been unable to save because he had not found Joker quickly enough once he escaped.

Things were quiet though, and he turned to leave, to find somewhere else that he was needed that night. The sky over Gotham was dull and gray, and he was feeling just as dull and gray, though more so to hide within the shadows and keep watch over the innocent citizens that flooded the night. He slipped back into his vehicle, the car upgraded so it was a more sleek design than had been in use for so long, but it still grumbled and roared as he pulled away from Axis Chemicals. 

A light went off in the dash, and glancing up, he could see the signal in the sky, calling him to the top of the Gotham City Police Department. The police scanner playing as constant background noise in the car had not squealed of anything too demanding for the police that night, so Gordon had something for him, something that he needed to see personally. Batman drove towards the building in question, one of the other many Gothic stonework buildings that populated the city and gave it the ambiance that filled the streets.

He went to the police building and left the vehicle to the side in an alley, where he could access it easily when it was time to go. The climb up was so familiar that he was certain he could do so if he were blinded or partially deaf, and had done so a few times just in practice to make certain he could. Not that Gordon ever knew that was what he was doing. But the best way to be just a little to slow, to fail to save that one innocent life was to not be in constant practice, even with constant use.

Jim Gordon was waiting for him on the roof of the police precinct building, as was the agreement. He was also alone, which was part of that as well. Even with Gordon in charge, there was still plenty of corruption in the police, and he was the only one that Batman readily trusted. Jim was tucked into a brown trench coat, his salt and pepper hair mussed from the wind that far up, looking as if he wanted to go back inside. Batman did not blame him, it was a cold night.

He landed silently on the roof, hovering in the shadows for a moment to ensure Gordon was really alone before he appeared. It would not have been the first time that someone else had snuck onto the roof to try and catch a glimpse. Those glimpses had been quite brief. But Jim was alone, and he came out into the smallest bit of light he could manage.

"Quiet night."

Gordon jumped, but only slightly. He was getting better at that.

"I wish. We got a package tonight. From him."

Batman moved a little closer, not to be intimidating, but to make sure he heard everything. The wind combined with traffic and the cowl were enough that he wanted to be closer to Jim as his voice was carried off on the breeze. 

"It had a DVD in it, and a charred finger." Gordon continued, "It was a video of him, killing an officer. We haven't been able to find any other part of the body, like before. But you can tell he was at the dump when he did it." 

Batman frowned at the description. This new monster had been out on the streets for weeks, and had disappeared without a trace most times, leaving behind not even a body. It left very little to go on. Jim pulled out a copy of the DVD, holding it out to him.

"The new criminologist has been going over things. She's trying to get a feel for this Purge person. That's what he's calling himself. Dr. Reinhart thinks we should keep the name secret though."

"She wants to provoke him into doing something irrational so he'll get caught." Batman replied, his frown getting deeper.

"It's a tactic that's worked before."

"It'll backfire on her. This isn't a regular criminal. He's a zealot. He'll kill more and more just to prove a point."

Jim nodded slowly, "There's nothing that suggests he won't respond to normal tactics either."

"Dr. Reinhart should be careful then. His next example will be the cop that denied him his moment in the sun." 

Gordon put his hands in his pockets against the cold, "I'll keep an eye on her. Let me know if you find anything."

While Jim had been nursing the cold from his hands, Batman had stepped back into the shadows. Gordon would find him gone the next moment, knowing that the exchange of information would continue. He wanted to get home and analyze the film, and look up the background on the new member of the Gotham City Police Department staff. If she had a history of being an irritating pain in the ass, he could assume he would have to find and save her nosy behind at least once. 

Dropping down between the buildings, he climbed into the car and listened to it seal shut over him. It was early, but he had work to do. Off to the Gotham dump, then home to look at the video and to dig up all he could on Gordon's new criminologist.


	4. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Seven o'clock. It was a cacophony of screams just before the evening doses of anti-psychotics and sedatives were administered so that everyone, including the guards, got a good night sleep. Joker lied on his back on the cot bolted to the floor, the room heated enough so that he did not have to be given a blanket that he might harm himself or others with. His eyes rolled around as he looked around the room, the toilet without the seat, firmly bolted into place, the toilet paper so soft it was like being in a high class hotel for fear he might build a weapon out of anything stronger.

He laughed as someone shouted something particularly obscene. It was always delightful to hear something new, and seven o'clock always brought something amusing. Then there were faces in front of the four inches of bullet proof glass that made the front of his cage, and he knew it was his own turn. With a massive heave of effort, he rolled into a sitting position, smiling at the doctor and three orderlies that were standing there. Joker waved, the effort showing off the emaciated wrist and hand. But that's what you get when you stop eating for weeks.

"Up against the wall, palms flat." The voice was one of the deep ones from the orderlies.

Joker stood up and wobbled slightly, which was all part of the delight of his current state, and walked over to the wall, standing with his nose touching the cold cement, making a show of pressing his palms against the wall. The orderlies unlocked the door and walked in, one pressing a night stick against the back of Joker's neck while the other two held onto his hands. All three stood clear of his legs after that unfortunate incident when he had kicked back with a homemade shiv stuck in his shoe. The femoral artery had been sliced in the unfortunate nurse's leg, and he had bled out within minutes. After that, his shoes had been taken away too.

The doctor, an aging woman who looked as if she had not slept in seven years, came into the room and looked him over from the back, clucking her tongue over him as if she were trying to figure out how to get aphids off her rose bushes.

"Joker, you haven't eaten anything in weeks. You know what we told you last week."

"Do I? Enlighten me Dr. Mortain. Or may I call you Claire?" He asked, turning his head to smile at her.

"Fine. The medical wing it is." She said with a sigh.

Walking forward, Dr. Mortain uncapped a hypodermic needle and slid it with expert care beneath his skin, wiping the spot afterward with an alcohol wipe. Joker knew what was inside, the sedative cocktail mixed just for him every time that he had to leave his cell. A mixture of tranquilizers and paralysis agents to keep him from doing anything unsavory or interesting while he was being carted around. The drugs went to work on his nervous system quickly, and as soon as he began to sag against the three orderlies, he was tossed back onto his cot like a sack of garbage. Two of them left the room with the doctor, the third watching over him, before they returned with the straight jacket.

It was his personal jacket, being set with an extra set of locks and a chain to wrap around it, and he was completely limp as they wrapped him in it, leaving him face down on the cot as they went out to get the gurney. Joker had to work hard to keep from doing more than the muted chittering laugh that he had become known for while he was on the sauce, so to speak. But it was just so funny! Especially when they brought in the gurney and rolled him onto it, one of the orderlies leaning right over him to fasten the straps and buckles. He could have bitten the man's ear off, but that would have ruined the big surprise for the evening.

Instead, he stared up at the ceiling as if his body had not metabolized the drugs far too quickly, having gotten used to them. He lied still like all the stiffs down at the police department, and the thought nearly made him crack up again. But he was still as they lifted him vertically, hitching the gurney onto two wheels and rolling it out. He even let his head loll to the side as they went down the hallways, heavy with concrete, bare long fluorescent bulbs strafing across the ceiling in every direction that opened. It was nearly fifteen minutes down to the hospital wing of Arkham, involving a short trip outside, his first in months.

By the time they had gotten him through the bullet proof, chicken wire-filled glass doors and the triple locks, through the doors that kept everyone hostage until the next one was opened and they were let through again, he had closed his eyes and gone silent, the final sign that the drugs had taken effect to the people who were watching over him. As usual, his mouth smiled, but that was nothing odd as he grinned even in his sleep, even when the guards were cracking his ribs and breaking his cheek bones with their sticks. A smile was his umbrella, and he could hear Penguin arguing that he was the only one with umbrellas, and it nearly sent Joker into a fit of giggles again.

But he managed to keep it in check, and they pulled him out of the gurney, and unwrapped him from his tortilla casing of a straight jacket, and putting him into a bed. His wrists and ankles were strapped down in the humane, secure bindings that the medical wing employed under the hallucination that people sick enough to be in the medical wing were not dangerous. An IV was plugged into his emaciated hand, so thin it was nearly impossible for the medical staff to find his veins, cold saline fluid flowing into his system while a heart monitor was hooked up. The gurney was rolled away, and he was left alone.

He could hear Dr. Mortain chatting with the medical doctor, the real doctor whose name escaped him. They were talking about force feedings and holes in his stomach, all ways to keep him healthy and hearty so the taxpayers of Gotham could keep him in solitary confinement. A chuckle managed to slip past his lips, but they were so busy talking about how to fix him, at least physically, that they did not seem to notice. Joker lied back and thought of England, then suppressed a laugh and thought of his real goal. The look on Batman's face when he saw him outside the walls of Arkham Asylum without being released. Now there was a damn fine joke.

Eventually the orderlies went back to their duties, and there was just a nurse, the doctor, and the psychiatrist standing there, chatting. Joker felt along his palm, and felt for the end of the sliver-thing of metal he had slowly chipped off his own cot. It slid out of the layers of skin on his palm, and between his fingers, sharp on the edges but easily malleable. He was able to bend it between two fingers, and used it to slowly unhook the cuff around his right hand.

All of this had been planned, been practiced, like a circus act honed for the brainwashed masses. After one hand was free, he noiselessly tossed the sliver to his other hand, catching it between two fingers, as he had practiced night after night, for hours once the lights had been turned out and not even the cameras could watch him. He suspected it was because nobody wanted to consider the idea that they might catch him masturbating or something equally improper. That made laughter bubble up in his chest, and he did his best not to shake as he stayed perfectly still, so they would have no reason to look at him.

Next was the cuff around his left hand. That opened as easily as if they wanted him to escape. But he was patient. So patient. This had been coming for months now. Since his last escape anyway. Grinning, he waited until he heard the nurse come over to put another needle of sedative into his IV. She was so young, she had to be fresh out of nursing school. Probably a D student, considering she had been unable to get a job anywhere else. At first he had planned to snap her neck, but it was more amusing to let her live and spend her days curing the incurable. As she leaned over him, his eyes snapped open, and she was too shocked to even yelp or scream as his hand came up, out of the open cuff.

Joker took the hypodermic needle from her and turned it around, stabbing it into her neck and pressing the plunger home. She had no chance against the drugs that were supposed to be strong enough to put him under. The nurse dropped in her boring green scrubs, unconscious on the floor. She had been so silent that Joker had time to leisurely sit up, stretch out his arms, and reach down, releasing his own feet. When he stood up, he noticed the tray of medical instrument sitting to the side. A grin nearly split his face in two as he picked up the scalpel sitting there.

The doctor and Dr. Mortain were standing alone, talking in the corner, ignoring the world. He was nearly able to dance in his bare feet as he walked up to the two of them, sliding the scalpel into Dr. Mortain's back as if it had been cutting through bread dough instead of flesh. It cut into her spinal cord, and she dropped to the ground, her legs suddenly unable to hold her up, her body paralyzed from the neck down. She gasped for air as he pulled his bloody hand away, chortling at the terror on the medical doctor's face as he walked forward. It seemed so dull to use the same weapon twice, but he was fresh out of Joker Juice, and he would just have to improvise.

His free hand came up, and he grabbed the nameless doctor's throat. Joker laughed, nearly screamed with laughter as he stabbed the doctor, over and over again, first plunging the scalpel into his eyes, as deep as he could, as hard as he could, and those probably killed the man. But that was not fun enough, he had to give Dr. Mortain a show. Eventually, spattered with blood, he turned and looked down at the incapacitated woman.

"Claire, how are we feeling? Good? Bad? Indifferent? Excellent!" He laughed, crowing with his head tossed back. 

Joker kneeled down, the bloody scalpel still in his right hand as he carefully removed her glasses. "I know what you need. A big smile."

He gave her two. The first cut her lips open to either side of his face. The second opened one from ear to ear across her throat. He listened to her choke on her own blood and pain as he skipped over to his real goal. A drain in the corner of the medical wing, almost too skinny for any human to pass through, but he had gotten rid of all that silly excess body fat and muscle that would have made it impossible. Dropping the scalpel, he pried open the drain, and began squirming feet first down into it, pleased when his hip bones were the only thing that really scraped the sides. Stopping before his head disappeared, he waved at Dr. Mortain, who was still clinging to life in a pool of her own blood.

"Toodles." He said politely, and dropped down into the pipe which would take him into the sewers below Gotham.


	5. A Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Paper in hand, Avery walked in the front doors of the main office building of Wayne Industries, her badge around her neck as she walked up to the front desk. Two secretaries were expertly working the desk, clicking through phone lines with the ease of people who had been born going through unimaginable numbers of lines. They continually answered and transferred calls, though one stopped as she approached the desk, badge in hand, a dark blue silk blouse beneath her gray pantsuit.

"Dr. Reinhart to see Mr. Wayne. I have an appointment." She said politely, showing her identification.

The secretary smiled politely and nodded. "I will let Mr. Wayne know you're here, Dr. Reinhart. Please have a seat in the waiting area and someone will be along shortly to escort you upstairs. Can I get you anything while you wait?"

"No thank you." Avery replied, and wandered over to the waiting area.

Of course she had to wait. As irritating as it was, she knew she was going to have wait while a security guard guided her upstairs and she would announce to another secretary, this one called an executive assistant, who she was and that she had an appointment. And then an insipid interview with Bruce Wayne. She had never met the man, but she did read newspapers. It would probably be like dealing with a more insouciant Lex Luthor. Avery stopped in front of a painting on the wall and looked it over.

It was a nice painting, not one of those modern art things that looked like primary blocks on a piece of paper. It was a landscape, a Thomas Kincade if she was not mistaken. It was streams of sunlight over a field where an empty pavilion sat on its own, a place she could have imagined spending a day reading and sipping sweet Moscado wine on a vacation. It was a place that probably did not exist on Earth. But it was nice to think about.

"I always wondered if a place like that existed."

She heard a male voice behind her, and Avery turned her head to glance at who was speaking to her. She shook her head slightly, "Probably not. Too beautiful. Places like that don't exist anywhere but in fairy tales."

"That's a pretty pessimistic view of the world."

Rolling her eyes, Avery turned around to look at the man behind her, pleasantly surprised to find that he was more attractive than her sideways glance had revealed. "Being pessimistic on occasion comes with the job."

"So I'd assume, Dr. Reinhart." The handsome man held out his hand, "Bruce Wayne."

Unsurprised, Avery took his hand, her slender fingers almost disappearing inside his large ones. The surprise encounter was a favorite of those moguls who felt they were far better a catch than they actually were. Not that he was not handsome. Bruce Wayne stood in front of her, several inches taller than her even though she was in heels, his dark hair smoothed away from his forehead. His eyes flashed with mischief that would have hidden the intelligence behind it if she had not been paying attention, his chin firm below perfect lips and a nose just crooked enough to imagine it got that way in a night of hedonism.

"Dr. Avery Reinhart. I didn't think I was worth a personal escort from the CEO of the company."

He smiled that brilliant playboy smile at her, "I took a look on one of the security monitors. You were beautiful enough that I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you."

Avery felt herself nearly snort, "Does line that ever work on anyone?"

"Nobody I actually want to spend the time with. I understand you have some questions for me. Let's talk in my office." He replied with a laugh.

"That would be best," Avery said, relieved that he might drop the act and they could get down to business. She wanted to conduct the interview as fast as possible and get back to work. The longer she sat around chatting with the billionaire, the less time she had to spend on the Purge case.

Jim Gordon had taken her advice not to release the man's self-declared moniker yet, but she knew it would probably only be a matter of time until he gave in to the press to get them off his back. Not that she blamed him. She had already begun dodging reporters who were smarter than the rest and knew she had been brought in to help. Avery was only thankful that they hadn't found the apartment she was renting yet.

Bruce escorted her to the elevator, and the operator inside was charmingly discrete, doing his best not to look at her. Avery did her best not to ask Bruce any questions until they were upstairs, for the sake of confidentiality as well as to leave the operator guessing. There was no reason to give him something he could sell to reporters later by saying he saw Dr. Avery Reinhart talking to Bruce Wayne.

They got out on the top floor of the building, where a beautiful woman was sitting at a large desk, answering the phone. It said her name and executive assistant on the bronze name plate on her desk. Bruce lifted a hand to her, and guided Avery into his office with his hand on the small of her back, having her sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk before he sat in the massive leather chair behind his equally massive desk.

"You want to know about the recent thefts from Wayne Industries warehouses, right?" He asked, leaning back in the chair.

The door opened and the executive assistant came in, making sure she smiled at Bruce before setting down a tray of coffee, pouring two cups and silently offering Avery cream and sugar. Avery nodded and took the coffee, taking a drink and waiting until the assistant left before she spoke.

"It is. I know the items taken don't seem to make any sense, but I'm more concerned with how the security guards were dealt with. There were a few who were tied up and just left, and others who were killed, right?"

Bruce grimaced slightly, "Unfortunately. I took care of the families, of course, but it's still horrible."

"It looked like they had parts simply...torn off, right? That was in the police report." She asked.

He nodded, "Yes, that's what my security staff said."

"And nothing was caught on the cameras?"

"Nothing." Bruce answered promptly.

Avery lifted an eyebrow, "Sure. Well I'd appreciate it if you would have someone send over the official Wayne Industries reports of the theft. I assume your record keeping is better than that of the Gotham PD."

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a white business card with her name, division, and phone number, as well as a fax number beneath it. They had been waiting in a drawer in the desk she had appropriated, and part of her admired Gordon's forethought, the rest of her amused that he was so desperate to keep her that she got fringe benefits like business cards and her own office. Avery set it on the desk for Wayne to pick up on his own.

"As soon as possible, if you could."

Bruce leaned forward and looked at the card, carefully turning it over before he looked up, giving her a look that was reminiscent of cartoon characters giving someone the long-lashed puppy dog eyes. "No personal number, in case I need to get a hold of you after hours?"

Her eyes rolled before she could keep herself from doing it, "Mr. Wayne, you're a putz. A rich, handsome putz, but a putz none the less. I'm here to work, not to listen to some Lothario try to pick me up. Get that information to me by the end of the day."

He grinned as he leaned back in his chair, "Dr. Reinhart, if I didn't know better, I would think that you weren't susceptible to my charming personality."

"By the end of the day." She repeated, standing up and walking towards the door.

Bruce got up from the chair and moved faster than she thought was possible to reach the door in front of her. He grabbed the knob before her and turned it, "Can I show you out?"

"If you take the steps."

His laughter followed her past his smiling assistant's desk, and to the elevator. Avery shook her head as she rode it down to the ground floor of the tall building, waiting until she got outside and hailed a cab before she pulled out her cell phone. Sitting in the back of the cab, she watched the buildings and people of Gotham flow by while she dialed Jim Gordon's number. She had to speak to his long-suffering secretary first, but eventually the phone was ringing into his office line, and he picked up, sounding tired. She suspected tired was his normal operating system.

"Gordon."

"Jim, it's Avery. I just got done talking with Bruce Wayne about those thefts from the Wayne Industries warehouses."

"Do you think there's a connection?"

"I don't know. I'm going to look at what was stolen, but I have an idea. Hell, it's more than an idea, it's a feeling. But I don't think he's working alone."

Jim was quiet for a moment, "But we only saw him on the video."

"Yeah, we saw a guy who had a hard time with his impulse control problems. He killed a cop in the worst way possible. There's no way he's calm enough after that to dispose of the bodies so well. He has to have a partner, and I think that partner is doing other side jobs for him too. Like stealing things they need."

"What'd you get from Wayne?"

"Not much, aside from good-natured sexual harassment." Avery replied sardonically. "He really thinks he's all that and a bag of chips, doesn't he?"

Gordon coughed out a laugh, "I've never heard an adult use that phrase."

"It applies. Anyway, he's sending me the Wayne Industries reports. I'll read through them as fast as I can."

"Where are you going next?"

"Just coming back to the office. I have other work to do until those reports come in."

"Take care." Gordon said.

Avery could not help but smile, "Thanks Jim."

She hung up the phone and finished her ride back to her office, walking into the Gotham PD precinct without glancing at too many people. Not many were willing to take in an outsider immediately, and it had not changed any in the past couple of days. She headed to her office and stopped at the door, staring at what she saw sitting on her desk. Rising out of a silver vase were two dozen roses in a hue of purple she had never seen in flowers before. They were so positively aubergine that they absorbed light instead of reflected it. Avery walked forward and picked up the hand-written card, reading it carefully.

"I hope we can have a conversation where you're not working. Perhaps at the Gotham Conservatory Celebration Gala. Call me, and we'll discuss it. Bruce Wayne."

Rolling her eyes again, she put the roses on the top of the filing cabinets in the corner of her office, and dropped the note into the garbage can, muttering softly, "Putz."

It was slightly impressive that he had managed to get roses to her office before she even managed to get back to her office, but she did not have time for that kind of nonsense. Especially not with a man who was looking at her as his current flavor of the month, willing to leave a sore on her heart for when she left Gotham. Her schedule was too full of finding out who Purge was, who he was working with, and stopping him to have time to play games with some rich playboy. No matter how attractive he was. Avery saw papers sitting in the tray of her fax machine and nearly smiled. She definitely had time for those.


	6. Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

The sewers were rank, but there was a sense of purity to them that Purge could admire. They were not like the streets above, they were not teeming with filth that had a shiny veneer stapled over it. Instead they wore it on the outside, honest and real, and did not try to hide from the world. The sewers were candid and sincere and he could deal with the smell if he did not breathe in through his nose. It was no worse than the scent of burning flesh.

He wandered through the dry beds meant to draw sewage into other pipes, his heavy boots sticking in places though his thick legs pulled them free easily. It was two more rights, then a left, and the sewer tunnels opened into a wide basin that drained away the rain water that tried so hard to cleanse Gotham. When he arrived, he turned on the gas lights that he had installed not because his partner needed them. No, his partner could see in the dark. The lights were purely for his benefit, but that was necessary. He went over to his work bench and sat down, heaving a pile of current newspapers from under his arm onto the crude plywood slung across hanging pipes.

Purge began searching through the papers, looking for some sign that the police had gotten his video. He knew they got it, he had been watching the precinct, one more bum pulled in for the drunk tank those days. He had seen the pretty doctor make a copy of his disc from the processing area and give it to the police commissioner. But nothing had been announced. Paper after paper, and nothing was there announcing him. Telling the city who he was, what he was going to do for them. The fury that was building was only throbbing within him exponentially as he turned on a small black and white television hooked up to a stolen cable line.

There was nothing there either. Purge refrained from ruining the television because he knew he would want it later, but it only fueled his need to be productive. He sat back down at the workbench and pulled out his supplies. Bottles. Chemicals. Old rags. He began filling each of the five bottles. First the acetone, then the nitromethane, and topped off with just a little regular gasoline. He filled all five bottles to the top with the chemicals and began stuffing them with rags, curling the rags inside to stop up the tops. Later, when he was ready to use them, he would attach another piece of cloth so that the bottle would not explode in his hand.

But the police were too easy to pick off now. It was not enough of a target any more. His headlines were no longer front page news. If Gotham wanted more violence, more important targets, he could give that to them. There would be something soon. Something he could sneak into, and some way to send his message. The bottles went into the storage case he had beneath his workbench, vented to let out the chemical fumes. 

Something was coming through the low water on the floor, and he turned to see the figure of his partner in the light of the basin. Waylon Jones, known to the public as Killer Croc, stood behind him, chewing on something that looked like it might have once belonged to a small adult, or a middle sized child. Purge did not much care, knowing none of them were innocent above. Instead he took in his partner's figure. Croc was nearly eight feet tall and covered in scaly flesh, his teeth filed down to fangs. His yellow eyes glowed like a cat's, his fingers ending in claws that were thick with a brown crust of dried blood.

"Have you been hunting?" Purge asked quietly.

Croc threw away the shoe the foot had been in, and finished chewing on the flesh of the leg, swallowing before he answered. "I love 'em unattended."

The voice of his partner was deep and harsh, like someone scraping steel wool against a copper pipe. He sucked in some drool, thudding over to the workbench and looking over the newspapers, then sniffing the air. There was no doubt that he could tell that he had made more of his Molotov cocktails and were storing them for now.

"Are you ready to join me in some of my endeavors? It's time to take things to the public."

The lizard man grinned in a horrible way, "Sounds like fun."

"Continue your hunting as you see fit." Purge continued, "I'll find some Gotham event where we will make our debut. And if the knight appears, you will keep him from stopping us."

The grin got wider at that idea, "You expect him to show up?"

"After the first couple of mindless socialites go up in flames, he'll come. He always shows up for those who were born to the right families, who keep the poor downtrodden and broken. He is no better than them."

"So long as he shows." Croc continued, almost drooling at the thought.

Purge went back to his papers and opened them again, looking through a section he normally never touched, finding the society page. It was as if God were trying to tell him exactly what to do, the very first announcement in that pathetic section giving him exactly what he was looking for. He tore it out of the page and stuck it onto the wall with the rest of his clippings, though this one was less gruesome. For now.

"Gotham Conservatory Celebration Gala." Croc read, leaning forward. "Sounds boring."

"I'm sure it would be. Nothing but the elite of Gotham, sipping expensive champagne and chatting about how they were going to make themselves richer while pretending they gave a damn about the charity which helps no one who truly needs it. They'll nibble at food so expensive they could have fed hungry families for months on what it all cost, and never think another moment about what they are doing." Purge could feel the rage burning inside him at the thought. Perhaps he owed the pretty criminologist his thanks for reminding him that it was time to take the next step.

"Fun to ruin." Croc said, chortling.

"You'll have your free run of the place, so long as fools panic and we bring the knight out. Get prepared."

Killer Croc nodded and turned, his heavy clawed feet thudding along the basin floor, splashing in the few puddles left. Purge sat quietly at his workbench for a long time, thinking of every contingency. The Batman not showing up. The Batman showing up and defeating Croc. The Batman actually getting close enough to reach him. He would have to keep a few of his smaller weapons available for that particular situation. Purge got out a number of chemicals and smaller containers stolen from Wayne Industries early last week and got to work. He would have some surprises ready.


	7. To The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Eight days. She had been working in Gotham for eight days, and since she first arrived, there had been no sign of Purge or anything that looked like his work. Nor were there any signs of his partner, though she was almost certain now that it was Killer Croc, also known by the name Waylon Jones. She had his police file, and the file that the people at Arkham had been able to make for him before he had escaped months ago. 

Avery walked down the street to the antique store where she had rented the top floor which had been converted to an apartment some time ago. It had come already furnished, and she had been able to get a short six month lease with the option to renew. It was exactly what she had hoped for too, with beautiful old furniture from the store and a large, comfortable bed that let her sleep soundly right in the middle of it.

Pulling out her keys, she went to the steps at the back of the building, picking up the mail in the little box that her landlord had put in for her, going through the letters. It was probably stupid to stand there and go through her mail, but it had been a long week and she was still going to get up and spend the next day at the office anyway. Her week did not end simply because it was Friday. Especially since the Joker had escaped from Arkham five days ago. She would take a week or so off once they caught Purge and Croc, but for now, it was all business. At least there had been no flowers today.

Every day since she had met with Bruce Wayne, he had sent her a massive bouquet of flowers and a different hand written note each time, asking her to be his date that Saturday at the conservatory gala. She had thrown each note away, and had started giving the bouquets to the married men at the office to take home to their wives. Barbara Gordon was going to be getting two dozen white calla lilies that had arrived the previous day. But that day, nothing had arrived to her relief.

"Excuse me. D'you have the time?"

Avery turned around to give the time to the voice behind her, only to feel something thunk into her side. Pain coursed through her body, and she dropped to the ground, her arm twisted beneath her body, feeling completely numb. After a moment, she realized that it had been a taser that had been shot right into her side, leaving her incapacitated on the cold autumn cement. Her attacker, who she saw out of half-lidded eyes, was a normal street thug, who had seen her go into the alley and thought that he had a pretty good chance at some fast cash.

He took her watch off her wrist, and turned her over, taking her attache case, digging through it and throwing files on the ground. Frowning, he glanced at her and picked her up by the front of her blouse.

"Where's the cash, bitch? The credit cards?"

"Don't carry..." Avery managed, trying get one leg working so she could kick him in the groin.

The thug did not seem to like this answer, and he pulled out a switchblade, waving the blade in front of her face. "You real pretty. Maybe I make you less pretty unless you give me what I want."

Avery watched the knife, and managed to get her leg to move, kicking up as hard as she could. The thug grunted in pain, falling back as he doubled over, dropping the knife. She reached over for her bag and grabbed her phone, dialing the police as she tried to get up and failed, feeling a hand on her ankle. The thug had grabbed a hold of her, jerking her towards him across the cement, scraping the flesh of her legs in her just-above-the-knee skirt, his eyes wild and angry as he groped for the switchblade again.

She tried to fight but her limbs still refused to do as she asked, and a hand wrapped in the front of her blouse, tearing off a couple of buttons. Avery was ready to feel the knife drive home into her chest or her neck, when she was dropped to the ground, the thug replaced with a flurry of dark fabric. There was a brief scuffle, and the thug fell to the ground, unconscious. She should have been afraid of the dark figure that kneeled down next to her, lifting her carefully with hands that she had imagined would have been far less gentle.

"Dr. Reinhart, are you injured?" The Batman asked, his voice rough and gravely, as if he were trying to mask his voice. It did not even occur to her to ask him how he happened to be around as she was attacked, or how he knew her name.

"Just hit with a taser." She managed.

He lifted her up so she was sitting on the steps, leaning against the railing. The sound of sirens in the distance reminded her that she had called the police, and she looked up to try and say thank you to Gotham's vigilante knight. But he was already gone, her watch and keys in her lap. When the police arrived, she gave a statement and got checked out by the ambulance while they put the thug in the back seat of the squad car. It felt like she sat on the edge of the ambulance for hours, the night getting deeper as she told three officers what had happened and finally threatened to call Jim Gordon if they did not let her go upstairs.

One of the uniforms had picked up her papers, her attache case, and her mail, returning them all to her before she was walked up to her door. Avery sighed as she realized that Wayne had only been sending flowers to the office because he had not known where she lived. Until now. The officer that walked her to her door picked up the beautiful arrangement of white and blush colored irises in a pink glass container and carried it in for her, setting it on the kitchen table.

"Thanks." She said, letting him out and locking her door with a sigh.

Turning on the lights in the living room, she shrugged off her wool blazer, going into the bedroom and kicking off her shoes while she went to open the remaining buttons on her blouse. She could not help but shriek softly as she realized she was not alone in the bedroom.

"How are you feeling Dr. Reinhart?"

Her hand went to turn on the light, but only the small lamp near the bed went on, leaving the room mostly in shadow. The Batman was standing near the window, setting the light bulb from the overhead lamp on the bed carefully.

"I'll live. Thank you for earlier. You probably saved my life."

He seemed to ignore her, "You have a theory about Purge."

Gordon had told her to share with the Batman should he come around, and she did owe him for saving her life before, but for some reason he just rubbed her the wrong way. "I do."

The Batman stood silently, obviously waiting for her to share. Avery crossed her arms beneath her breasts, making sure her torn blouse still covered her dark, lacy bra. "He's working with Killer Croc. The things stolen from Wayne Industries as well as other places around the city are perfect for making up the odd chemical compositions of the random Molotov cocktails that Purge likes to use. The violence from the robberies is indicative of his M.O. But I can't believe you didn't come up with that yourself."

"You're right, I did. I also think that Croc is how he's getting rid of the bodies."

"It would fit with his current behavior patterns." She replied with a nod. "Purge is too unstable to deal with bodies himself. Especially when he's not careful enough to wipe away fingerprints or DNA. We got some latent prints off what he sent to the precinct, but there were no matches in the system."

"Don't go after him on your own." He warned. "He's dangerous."

"Duh." Avery said, shaking her head. "I know enough to leave the maniacs to the trained officers and, I suppose, yourself. Which leaves me with an interesting question. You know most of what I told you. Why are you here?"

The Batman came forward, a huge figure in the half darkness of her bedroom, and something curled up in her stomach, partially from irrational fear as a dark specter floated towards her and part from an odd flutter in her chest that was far more irrational than fear. He stopped just a few feet from her, looming, close enough that she could smell the synthetic odor of his suit and see the swarthy smattering of a five o'clock shadow on his chin and lower cheeks. His eyes burned as he watched her intently, eyes that she could have sworn were familiar after a moment or two before he spoke again, his gloved hand suddenly around her wrist, as if he were determined to make her hear him out.

"Because you're known for following cases through to the end. A good cop who has gotten into trouble more than once. You're pressing your luck and this time you're going to push it too far."

Somehow Avery found her voice, "And one nosy criminologist is enough to keep you from patrolling the streets? Should I be flattered?"

"You'll be made an example of." Batman replied quietly, which was far more disturbing than if he had raised his voice to her. "You've denied him his moment in the spotlight and now he'll look for the one responsible."

"And then he'll screw up. But you've been watching me, so I assume that's what you've been hoping for the whole time. I don't mind setting myself up as bait, but you better damn well ask permission next time." She said getting more than a little irritated at the idea. "Yes, I expect him to come after me. I know that denying him the publicity he craves, the acknowledgment, will drive him nuts. But he's been doing this for weeks now. He's not going to screw up unless we make it impossible for him not to."

The large man was silent for a moment, and then something was pressed into the hand held captive by his own hand on her wrist. She looked down to see a transmitter, no larger than a flash drive, pressed into her hand. It had a single button and a small speaker on it, and seemed to weigh less than even the slim metal box probably should have. He released her then, stepping back.

"When he comes for you, press the button. I'll hear what is going on, and be able to find you."

Avery nodded, closing the device in her hand. "I will."

She reached up to rub her forehead, the day just more and more complicated. "Is there..." 

There was no reason to finish her question. He was already gone from her bedroom and her home. Avery sighed and put the tracking device on her bedroom night stand, and screwed the light bulb back in, going to the window and shutting it against the cool night air. She frowned as she saw dirt from his boots on the huge rug that sat beneath her bed. Nobody ever romanticized the dirt. Shaken, she changed her clothes, and walked into her kitchen, shuddering a little, a reaction from the electricity that had incapacitated her from before.

Her eyes came to a stop on the irises from Bruce Wayne, and she had a feeling that he was not going to stop. Picking the card out from the flowers, she went and picked up the cordless phone, dialing the home number of Wayne Manor. Who knew, maybe it would not be too boring.


	8. Back To Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

He climbed out of the window with the little fire escape, wondering why he was not just seething. Avery Reinhart had been nearly killed that evening, not by Purge but by a normal thug. Aside from the fact that she had said thank you, she then swallowed down the obvious fear at his presence and admitted that she was doing exactly what would get her into the deepest trouble. She was trying to use herself as bait to lure Purge out. 

The car was a couple of blocks away, which he easily crossed from rooftop to rooftop, thinking over her reactions. She had been completely honest when she had been indignant over the idea that she was being watched. She had also demonstrated a knowledge of Purge that he himself had struggled over. There was no question that Gordon had brought the right woman to work with. But it troubled him as well. She was going to get herself in trouble.

"Master Bruce?"

Batman was distracted by the voice of Alfred in his ear. The elderly butler sounded more approving than normal, which meant he had a message for him that concerned his personal life, not new information on the Purge case. He waited until he was on the roof over the car before speaking.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Dr. Reinhart just called for you. She left the message that if you stopped sending flowers, she would accompany you to the Conservatory Gala."

A smile touched his lips, stopped by the lower edges of his cowl. It was not made for smiling. "Send her chocolates instead then, and let her know I'll pick her up at eight."

Alfred sighed a little, "You normally don't have to work this hard to get a date. Are there no other young ladies available?"

He nearly smiled again, "There are others available, but none that have called Bruce Wayne a putz to his face. She's...unique."

"She sounds more astute than the other ladies you've been seeing recently."

It was Alfred's way of saying he had been dating bimbos. But there was really no point when he was unable to really keep a relationship together. But Avery Reinhart had come into his office all business and turned around and told Bruce exactly what she thought of him even while she was doing her job. She had been more than long legs and soft skin and that was something that had made him take notice. There was also something infinitely amusing about someone not trying to kiss his ass all the time. 

"She is. Chocolates and the note, please Alfred. I'll be home in a while."

"Dawn it is. Good night Master Bruce."

"Good night Alfred."

Batman dropped down into the car and let the top close over him as he began heading for the most logical places and a few illogical ones where the Joker might have run to after his escape. The man had starved himself nearly to death, then killed two members of the medical staff for fun. The only witness was a nurse he had left alive for some unknown reason, having injected her with the narcotics meant for him. Nothing had been found while following him out through the drainage tunnels he had used to escape, not even his Arkham-issued scrubs.

Axis Chemicals was clean, as was an old candy factory, as well as a toy factory. He had found squatters and a few drug users that he had reported to the police, but nothing indicative of gathering hoods and plans to harm innocent people. He even checked the fair grounds, now closed for the season with Halloween only a couple of weeks away. By the time that he was ready to head back to the house, he could see the sky was getting lighter. Alfred had been right when he said dawn.

The only real thought he had left was to check the sewers, and that was a daunting idea, even to him. Joker, Purge, Killer Croc, they could have been anywhere in the miles of tunnels beneath the city, a whole network of places half full of disgusting water that they could easily hide in for days and not care about it. He could search for days and not find any clue of their whereabouts, with the water always churning and changing. 

He drove through the city slowly, ignored by the groups of people heading home from the bars or heading out to work earlier than most people. The night had not been a total loss, he had gotten Avery Reinhart to agree to carry the tracking device. If she was really putting herself out there as bait and it worked, it could be an easy way to pick up Purge, if not Killer Croc, and get them both off the streets. The part of his mind that was all Bruce balked at the idea. Batman was willing to let her try it her own way, considering she recognized the risks of it all. 

Eventually he reached the city limits, and the back entrance to the caves beneath the manor house. Batman drove in slowly and parked the car, climbing out and peeling off the cowl, shaking out his hair which had curled in his own sweat, hanging over his eyes as he went to remove the body armor that he carried easily. The mail was sitting on the console in front of the computer bay where he was going to end up for another hour, but first it was time for a shower.

Dark towel wrapped around his hips, he settled down in front of the computers. He fingered through the mail, and saw the hand-written message from Alfred carrying the gist of Avery's phone call. It had only taken seven days. Chances were, she had run out of room in her office and hated that he had sent the irises to her home. It brought a slight smile to his face as he put down the mail and picked up the sandwich that had been waiting for him, along with the thermos of hot, decaffeinated coffee. He insisted that Alfred go to bed at a normal time, but it never stopped the butler from leaving him a meal before he did.

Now that he was no longer wrapped in cape and cowl, he had a moment to think freely as Bruce. He hated the idea of Avery putting herself on the line for someone the police or Batman should have caught by now. If he really wanted to keep her safe, he would find some way to balance being Bruce a little more than Batman. It would allow him to keep her close. Then again, if he could make a good impression, she might be more willing to spend more time with him. It would not be a horrible thing. He could imagine spending time with someone that down to Earth, someone so unimpressed with him. 

Finishing the sandwich, he left the mail on his desk, sipping from his mug of coffee as he took the old elevator back up into the house. He walked up to his bedroom quietly, stopping near Alfred's door, hearing nothing from the other side. In his room, he managed to crawl into a pair of pajama pants lying on the comforter before he collapsed into bed, the hush of the blinds closing on the timer the last thing he heard as they blocked out the rising sun.

********************************************************************

If this were really up to his standards, there would be cartoonish music playing in the background as he slipped out of the sewers and onto a Gotham street. Joker had left caches of things he would need all around the city at some point, mostly because he knew he would eventually get caught and have the fun of escaping again. While watching Killer Croc and his grumpy looking cohort plan things was fun, he had his own plans to consider.

The prison scrubs, that monumentally boring bright orange color, had been abandoned for his trademark, the green and purple suit which was a little loose on him, having lost so much weight. But he was quickly putting it back on, not only with ice cream sundaes made with that Ensure stuff, but he also kept ordering pizza. That pile of pizza delivery boys was getting pretty big though.

Chortling softly, he did a little dance as he walked up to the entrance of the bar where the rumor mill had said a few of his old pals, his old chums, his old cronies were all hanging out. Straightening his tie so that he would look presentable, one long fingernail going through his green hair before he stepped inside, Joker grinned as only he could.

“Miss me?!” He announced.

Someone instantly cut the music from the aging jukebox, and he felt his grin spread even wider.

“Now I know you thought I was gone, but I could never leave my cherubs alone for too long.” He crowed, wandering past tables.

A few familiar faces were stuck within the confines of even more brainless thugs, not that he would refuse the help. It was so hard being popular in this town. He did not know how Bruce Wayne could stand it. Joker posed with what he felt was insouciant joy, leaning against the bar with one long green fingernail against his painted lips, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, one of the thugs, one of his own that had managed to stay out of jail, came forward.

“Boss? We thought you was in Arkham.”

“It got boring. Besides, we can't vacation forever. So who is in the mood to have some fun?”

There was silence in the bar and he chuckled, looking around the room with slightly narrowed eyes, “I should rephrase that. It wasn't a question. If you're not with me, you can find out what's in store for Gotham.”

A massive figure came through the crowd, standing in front of Joker as he leered up at him. Obviously this was someone who wanted a live demonstration! Being a showman, Joker could not resist helping him out at all. The thug stood there, a hulking mass of idiot, reaching out to shove Joker's shoulder.

“You ain't the boss no more.”

Joker cackled and let him push his shoulder. “I'm not? Then who am I? I always liked the name Elaine. Can I be Elaine?”

The thug growled, obviously not liking the idea of being mocked, though it was pretty plain that he did not know that he was being mocked, or how. Joker grinned as he reached back, his meaty fingers curling into a fist to bring slamming into his face. But Joker was not where he had been just a moment ago.

He had moved, quick as one-liner, out of the line of sight, the thug swinging at empty air. Behind him, having ducked under his other arm, Joker grabbed him by the back of his bulging neck and dug in his fingernails, making the thug shriek like a girl. Pulling out a knife, he drove it in at the side of the thug's eye, popping the eyeball out of the socket and letting it hang against his face as the leather-clad man dropped to his knees, then the ground, curling up in a ball.

Stepping back, Joker smiled as he tucked the bloody knife away for later use, and stood shrugging his shoulders. “I'm a bad widdle boy.”

The crowd inside the bar was silent as they watched the man writhe on the floor for a moment longer, then begin to shudder. It was not a convulsion, but laughter, the thug rolling onto his back and screaming with laughter as he jerked on the floor like a fish on the deck of a boat. He reached up and yanked his own dangling eye free, before his face contorted horribly and he died, twitching once or twice more before going silent.

Joker looked over the figures still standing in the bar, and clapped his hands together quickly twice. “Now, I'd love a group of volunteers. Which means you'll volunteer or I'll feed you your own ear.”

Several of his former thugs and a few new ones stepped forward and he smiled. “Excellent. Tell me, is anyone familiar with the Karnival Mask Company?”


	9. The Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

There he was, knocking at her door and she was not ready. Avery rolled her eyes at being the typical late-to-everything woman as she pulled on her robe and walked out into the living room, hearing rain pattering on the sidewalks outside her apartment. She answered the door and had to admit, Bruce Wayne cut an imposing figure in his tuxedo, black umbrella over his head. Her lips quivered into a slight smile at the fact that he had come up her back steps for her himself.

"I'm almost ready, will you come in for a moment?"

"Don't rush." He replied, stepping in and easily moving in while closing the umbrella with a grace that she had never imagined he might have. They probably taught that at Yale or Harvard or wherever he ended up going to college.

"I just need to get my dress on." She replied, heading into the hallway leading back to her room. "Have a seat if you'd like."

"You could wear what you have on." He called behind her. "I wouldn't argue."

Avery rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look down at the smoke colored kimono with the soft blue lotus blossoms embroidered on it. She opened the dress she had gone out and purchased earlier that day and slipped it on, stepping into heels and grabbing the bag she had packed before with lipstick, a few sundry items, and the tracer that Batman had given her. She stopped and took a quick look in the mirror at herself, just to make sure everything was in place.

She had piled the mass of heavy curls she had put in her hair on top of her head, the floor-length gown a cap sleeved satin number with a tight bodice, the entire thing a deep shade of peacock green. A single peacock feather adorned her hair, and she had found bronze heels to set off the colors. Pleased, she came out of the bedroom to find Bruce waiting, looking at one of the paintings on her walls, gazing close as he turned his head to look at her.

"All ready when you are." Avery said, picking up the light bronze wrap she had set aside, tucking it into the crooks of her arms.

Bruce had been silent as he looked her over, which only disturbed her. Avery glanced down at her gown, worried.

"Am I inappropriately dressed? I don't really go to things like this very often."

He smiled as he approached her, lifting her chin with one hand, "Only to the point that I'm going to have to make sure to keep a hand on you at all times so that nobody whisks you away."

Avery hated herself for the flush that ran to her cheeks, but it apparently only urged him on as he leaned down, kissing her gently, not so passionately to muss her lipstick, but enough to ignite heat in her stomach. He leaned back with a smile, but it wavered ever so slightly, and she felt her own mouth turn up into a smile. Apparently he was not nearly as cool as he liked to pretend. She straightened, pushing a stray curl away from her eyes. 

"I think we should get going."

Bruce nodded, "You're right. We're already going to be a little late. Not that I ever show up on time."

He put a hand on the small of her back and guided her out the door, lifting the umbrella over them both as she locked her apartment door. He walked her carefully down the steps and held the umbrella and the door of his car open for her, settling her down in the passenger's seat of his Aston Martin Vanquish before he went to the other side, managing to get in without getting wet yet again. Bruce grinned at her and put the car in gear, speeding off into the city at a speed far too fast for the wet weather.

"So how was work this week?" He asked, turning a corner that made her hold onto the door.

"The usual. Chase the criminals, analyze personalities, move the six dozen flowers cluttering up my office."

More laughter, "I had to find some way to get you on my arm that didn't require handcuffs or a skin graft."

"For future reference, I can pick handcuff locks. My father was the county sheriff where I grew up. As for the flowers, it's time to cut that out. The chocolates were a nice change, but no more. If you want to spend the money, put it into medical research or something."

"Sheriff's daughter? I'm not surprised.” He replied with a grin. “And I already have a very well funded medical research wing. And several orphanages where I pay half the daily operating expenses. Any other charities you'd like to offer? I save the rainforest, the whales, and the spotted owl too while we're at it."

"Are you bragging?"

He grinned, "Nope, but I like to give a list of my better accomplishments before we go into a group of people that will tell you about all my bad qualities."

Avery had to laugh at that, finding herself melting despite the icy demeanor she had promised herself she was going to erect against him. "If I wanted to hear about those, I'd just read the tabloids. May I ask, why the orphanages? Last I heard, they weren't very in vogue charities any more."

Bruce's grin faded, his eyes turning back to the road as he turned down another street. "...My parents were murdered when I was a child. If I hadn't had Alfred, I would have ended up in an orphanage."

"There is considerably more to you than I thought at first." She said after a moment, breaking the sudden silence that followed his declaration. “I maintain the putz distinction though for now. That whisking away line was far more than anyone should be able to get away with.”

His expression changed to something more natural, the first real look she had ever seen on his face. If anything, she might have thought him almost pleased. "You're the first person who hasn't fallen over him or herself to tell me how sorry they are to hear it."

"What person wouldn't be? But does it change anything to say it aloud and remind you of it? Nope. Besides, I'm sure everyone in this city has already said it to you."

"You're right. But I'm surprised you didn't know. I would have thought the first thing you would have done was check up on me." He replied, amused again.

"I didn't have time. You'd be surprised how hard it is to get work done with six bouquets of flowers in your office."

Bruce laughed again and they pulled into a long drive behind a white limousine, and slowly drove up to the Gotham City Conservatory. It was a massive building of three huge wings, each set on a stone base with tall windows in heavy iron so beautifully decorative that it belonged in a huge cathedral, not in a conservatory. Lights glowed from inside the building, making look as if it were filled with soft starlight instead of just lamps. 

He pulled the car up to the valet service, and a valet opened Avery's door, holding an umbrella over her head. She was passed off to Bruce and his umbrella, and she was nearly blinded as flashbulbs went off. He took her arm, and she picked up the hem of her gown, walking down a red carpet with him into the building. They stopped numerous times, so photos could be taken and curiosities satisfied.

"I thought this was a charity event." She whispered in his ear softly, "This feels like a movie premiere."

He grinned at her, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek before whispering back, "Every event I'm at turns into the event of the season. You'll have to get used to it."

“Assuming I want to go out with you again.”

“I'm on probation then?”

“For now. We'll see how the rest of the evening goes.”

What felt like hundreds of flashbulbs seemed to pop as his lips touched her cheek, and she only hoped that the vague heat in her face would at least make her look like she was glowing. She was busy enough answering who she was and how she liked Gotham to really notice anything else. In fact, it seemed like many people were too busy to really notice that there were two figures in the darkness out beyond the conservatory lights and the security. The two figures ran past the very involved red carpet setting without being seen, and began to enact the first part of a very dangerous plan.

Each of the exits of the conservatory were sealed shut from the outside.


	10. Killer Croc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Purge haunted the final door, watching as figures slowly flowed into the conservatory, knowing Croc was already somewhere inside. The crowds were thinning, the sign that most of the people scheduled to arrive were there. Each door had been carefully barred shut, so that they would be impossible to open from the inside. Not only were they locked, but they were also sealed with insulated foam sealant that dried within two hours. It had been nearly a hour since they had started and if they were able to keep things quiet for another hour, the doors would be impenetrable.

He thought about the windows once, but the conservatory glass was made from double thick glass with a bubble of air between the panes, the individual panes more than three eighths of an inch thick. It would take a super man or a Batman to break through those windows. The only way he could see out would be the stained glass that made up the upper windows around the roof, but it would take far too long for the people inside to get there.

His shoulders were sore from the heavy bottles he was carrying beneath his coat, but he ignored the pain. Purge knew that every revolutionary suffered for their cause, and this was all part of what was going to accomplish that night. The crowds were dying down, the press going inside as he watched from his hiding place in a tree. He could see a hulking figure inside one of the wings, just a shadow, but anyone who wandered into that end of the conservatory was going to have an unpleasant surprise.

Pulling the binoculars from his eyes, he let his pupils get used to the darkness again after getting accustomed to the glare of the lights, and slowly shimmied out of the tree. He had to wait until the doors were ready to close before he could get inside. It had to be when the fewest number of people were at the doors. Before then, he would finish taking care of the random figures outside that might be a problem. 

Purge easily walked up behind one of the valets who was standing around, smoking a cigarette. He had hopes of saving all the pyrotechnics for inside, and it was easy to wrap a piece of piano wire around the valet's throat. He was choked to death before the wire cut too far into his throat. Dropping the body, he nudged it over to the side with a kick, grunting slightly, he moved on, spotting the next figure. These were the people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

Bruce laughed at what someone considered a witty bon mot and looked around, noticing that his date was not on his arm. He glanced around the room, finding her easily amongst the sea of black and white and muted colors that most people had worn that night. She was refreshing and smart, and he found himself smiling as he saw her wave off a waiter with champagne to get a club soda at the bar. Always clear headed while she was out in public.

Avery Reinhart had seemed as if she would have been a pain in the neck, but she was charming in the way that reminded him that there was more to him than the jet-setting playboy he wanted the world to accept him as. It was a nice feeling, a feeling he appreciated in Alfred as well. He was already planning to ask her for a second date when he watched her wander away from the party and his side.

Excusing himself from the group he was in, he made his way over to her, brushing off the people who wanted just a word with him, just a minute of his time. He caught up with her just before she disappeared into the eastern wing of the building, the music swelling to a soft crescendo as he put a hand on her arm.

“Having a good time?” Bruce asked, though her face already told him the answer.

Avery struggled to put a smile on those lips that just had a hint of color on them, as if she had bitten them instead of putting on lipstick that night. Her green eyes were rimmed with kohl and a bronze color that slightly glittered, making her look wide awake, even through her boredom.

“Oh, sure.”

A smile crept to his lips. “Dr. Reinhart, you are a terrible liar.”

She had the grace to look sheepish, “It's not very nice to tell your date that the entire night has been tedious since you got out of the car.”

He chuckled softly, “Well at least you were enjoying your time with me alone. How about I grab another drink and we go take a look at the flowers in the east wing you were so desperately trying to get to a minute ago. By the way, not very stealthy either I was pretty certain you were going to walk right over the mayor's wife if she didn't get out of your way.

A blush crept into her cheeks at his teasing and she looked up at him through long eyelashes. “Sounds better than listening to stories about polo. Or golf.”

“I promise, only stories about tennis with me.” Bruce said, smiling at her as she turned away walking to the eastern wing of the conservatory. 

He walked to the bar, discretely ordering ginger ale in his glass of champagne as he checked his cell phone. No messages, not that he expected to have missed them. The phone was on vibrate, as well as playing an obnoxious song that let all within hearing range know that Kanye believed they were dealing with a gold-digger. Alfred would buzz him at the phone if he were needed. 

Glancing out the windows, he saw nothing but rain pattering on the roof, lightning overhead. There was no oval of gold in the clouds with the emblem of the Batman on them. A good sign for now. If he could get Avery home by midnight, he could have Alfred meet him with the car and his change of clothing before he went out for a patrol. 

He slipped through the crowds, grinning at a few people, letting them know with raised eyebrows and winks that he had a very important appointment with the willowy red head he had arrived with. He drifted into the hallways towards the eastern wing, the halls lined with track lighting and bins of plants, most of which were a beautiful glossy green, or blossoming in every color of the rainbow.

There was an odd sound of glass breaking, and a soft female voice suddenly choked off. Bruce dropped his glass and took off at a run, skidding to a stop in the main room of the east wing. The very edges of Avery's gown were just brushing the floor, mostly because she was being lifted into the air by her neck, the single hand around her throat was scaled and clawed, and the golden red eyes of Killer Croc glanced over her shoulder at him.

 

Avery willed her cheeks to stop burning as she left Bruce to go find solace in the east wing of the Gotham City Conservatory. She sipped from her club soda as she walked down the hallway, the scent of flowers touching the air and making the humidity a bit more bearable. The air conditioning was cranked up in the main hallway, but she was still warm in the satin she had chosen to wear.

The east wing opened into a main room, where the walls were lined with long hip height pots filled with dirt and flowers. Then there were individual pots in a geometric pattern filling the room, with just enough space to walk in between. She leaned over to inhale the scent of a vibrant hibiscus when something, just a sound that she could barely hear, touched her ear. 

Glancing up, she looked around and only saw the open doors to the two other rooms that jutted off of the east wing. For a moment Avery thought that Bruce might have come to find her, but she still seemed to be alone. Drinking from her club soda again, she was drawn to another set of potted flowers, these another tropical native that she was unable to name. 

Her head jerked up, hearing the sound again, of something hard sliding against the floor, and Avery began walking towards one of the other doors to the wing. She tried to see into the shadowed entrances, but could not quite get a full view of them. Frowning, she walked towards the door on the left, where she was certain the sound was coming from.

“Is someone there? If so it's not funny. Come out right now.”

There was silence, nothing but the sound of some of the misting irrigation showers coming on in a corner somewhere for the moment. Avery sighed softly and turned to go back to looking at the flowers when the ground shook beneath her. She nearly fell, looking down at the ground and staring at feet that were an amalgam of human and monstrous things. They were human with five toes and a heel, but there was a dark claw in place of each toenail, and a dewclaw on the ankle as well. 

The scales were a brownish green, and her eyes went up the legs to a pair of torn trousers that ended at his knees, his thighs wider around than her waist was, the trousers held on by a piece of knotted rope. There was no shirt, just a broad expanse of chest, covered in scales that defined muscle, rising over to shoulders wider than she could stretch her arms, going down to massive fists that ended in five fingers and five brackish claws. His head was free of any hair, his nose and chin elongated a little, as if he were something out of a science fiction movie, or a monster film.

Avery backed away a step as he licked his lips with a long pink tongue. “...Killer Croc.”

He grinned with a maw full of fangs and lumbered forward faster than she imagined he could. Or there was a chance that she was slightly afraid and unable to move. Those thick fingers closed over her throat, wrapping completely around it with just one hand, fingers going from chin to her collar bone. She tried to cry out, but it was cut off just as it began, her glass having dropped to the ground at some point in time, along with her purse and the tracker Batman had given her.

Croc lifted her from the ground by her throat, and she felt herself starting to pass out immediately, the blood flow and her air cut off. Her head felt like it was going to explode, her temples pulsing and her eyes burning as the world turned red, then gray and narrowed down to a tunnel. Her legs kicked weakly a few inches off the ground, but she was going limp in his hold quickly. She just hoped that he would kill her before he began eating her.

The particular process that Killer Croc would have used never came to light, because she was suddenly falling to the ground. Coughing and gasping for air, she felt light headed, lying on the cool tile floor of the conservatory. Opening her eyes, the world was swimming in front of her as her brain got blood again, her eyes aching as if they had been ready to pop out of her head. Instead she saw the black tuxedo jacket of Bruce Wayne.

He was jerking his jacket off, wrapping it around his arm as he looked around, putting himself directly between Croc and herself. Avery watched Croc get up off the floor, and she was startled to think that Bruce had put the behemoth out on the floor. Then again, maybe he had hit the back of his knees. That would put anyone down.

Bruce grabbed a handful of flowers from one of the bins, and waited until Croc came running at him, fanged mouth leading the way. Those fangs clamped down over his jacket-wrapped arm, and Bruce wedged his elbow in further, prying the jaws open like a leaver. He shoved the flowers he had crushed in his hand into Croc's mouth, and kept his arm wedged in there until there was no sign of the pretty pink petals.

Croc gagged and tossed him away, the man landing hard and skittering across the floor, coming to a stop against a planter. The monster passed right by Avery, figuring she probably was not going anywhere as she could not even get up to do more than breathe and gasp. She watched as Bruce got up slowly and just managed to not get a huge claw right to the face, ducking behind a planter just in time.

It occurred to her to find her purse, but her head throbbed so badly that it was impossible to move without feeling as if she were going to faint. If he could keep Croc busy for just a minute or two more, she could make it to her purse and get some help. With the storm going on outside and the music and talking in the other room, nobody would hear them even if they were screaming.

Bruce dodged him again, and Avery tried to get up, managing only to get up on shaking arms, looking around for her purse. She saw it in a corner of the room, knowing that it would be useless to try and crawl over to it. But Bruce only had so much time left. He had kept Croc busy for a couple of minutes simply playing some horrific game of tag, but Croc was beginning to just smash through the planters to get to the man who kept eluding him.

“Bruce...” She croaked, her voice hoarse. “My purse...”

He glanced up at her, and ducked past Croc, going for the purse in the corner. The hulking figure followed him, and almost grabbed Bruce by the back of his torn tuxedo shirt as he dove for the little handbag. He jerked it open, pulling out not the transmitter, but her mace, flicking it open and spraying it in Croc's face.

Croc choked and backed away from Bruce, rubbing at his watering eyes, roaring over the rain but not the music. Bruce was ready with a second dose, but Croc stumbled as he lunged forward, grabbing his stomach as the scales on his face actually paled a little. Jerking around, he turned and fled into the room he had surprised Avery from, and there was a crash of glass as he fled out into the night.

Bruce ran over to Avery, lifting her up gently as he kneeled next to her, looking her over. She found herself wrapping her arms around him, clinging to him as he checked her eyes for sign of strain, and touched the bruises that were already visible around her neck.

“Avery, talk to me. Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes as he held her gently, looking up at him. “My hero. I hope this is the most exciting date we ever have.”

He smiled a little. “You had mace in your purse. Smart thinking. I hope you weren't going to use that on me.”

“Only if you got grabby. What were those flowers you shoved down his throat?”

“Oleander. Only thing close by that was poisonous. Not deadly, I don't think, but he won't be feeling very good for a while.”

Avery rested her head on his shoulder, and he sat back, letting her rest in his lap for a couple of minutes, catching his own breath from the game of cat and mouse. She jerked in his lap though as a scream cut through the night air, the music cutting out in the other room. Climbing to her feet, she took her clutch from his hand, her hand diving inside, finding the transmitter so that it was close at hand.

Bruce grabbed her other hand, pulling her behind him as he ran down the hall, coming to a stop at the entrance to the main hall. The scent of charred flesh met them before they saw what was happening, a circle of people around a burning form and a figure that Avery recognized. She felt her hand shake like a trapped butterfly in Bruce's hand.

“Purge.”


	11. Burning Elite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

It had been so easy to walk inside. He had only killed four or five people before he walked in and closed the doors behind him. He had not said a word, he simply threw the first Molotov cocktail and the bloated socialite in front of him went up in flames. A woman screamed and the music ended. He smiled from beneath his hood and looked up, arms out.

“I suppose I have to introduce myself, as the papers haven't gotten it right yet. You may all call me-”

“Purge.”

He turned his head to see who had interrupted him, and set eyes on the slender figure of the criminologist from the police station. The one who had probably convinced Gordon not to release his name. She looked bedraggled, as if she had been in a tussle of some kind, and he had to wonder what the slip of a thing did with Croc, as the bruises forming around her throat suggested she had run into him.

A smile split his face with ugly pleasure as he walked over, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the center of the room with him, so that she could watch the body of his newest victim continue to burn while he pulled out a second bottle, easily lighting it with one hand.

“It's Dr. Reinhart, correct?” He asked, before casually tossing the next bottle. 

The crowd screamed and tried to run, two people caught immediately in the splash of flames, tuxedos and gowns going up in cinders. His hand tightened around her forearm as she tried to pull away, pulling her close, away from the flames that licked at the limbs of the others. People scattered through out the conservatory, a few cowering behind the bar, which were doused in flame as he threw another bottle and enveloped them and their screams.

“I am so glad you're here tonight.” Purge said, watching the room slowly get absorbed by the cleansing flames. “I really did want to ask you why you would not release my name to the papers.”

Avery winced as he squeezed her arm painfully, her throat still hoarse as she answered. “Because it's exactly what you wanted. And what you want is wrong.”

He turned, grabbing the front of her gown to pull her close. “What I want is a clean Gotham. What I want...”

Purge pulled her close so she could see the scars on his face, along his jaws and cheeks, as if fire had licked at the flesh. “...Is for this city to know what it feels like to burn and come out pure.”

Purge grabbed her arm again and walked through the main hall, and pressed her down on the edge of a planter. “You denied me what I wanted.”

“You're killing innocent people. What you want is insane.” She replied.

He smiled slightly as he pressed one of his incendiary devices into her hands, tipping his head to the side. “To want peace and purity to flourish is not insanity, Dr. Reinhart. It's just idealistic. And idealism is lost in the abattoir of sin of this place.”

Purge looked around and pulled the half burnt sash from the body of a dead woman, wrapping it around Avery's hands as well as the small bomb, and stepped back, the room a furnace, the water of the fire alarm system not doing much more than evaporating against the intense heat. The screams of people trying to escape from the blocked doors were reaching the main hall, and people that drifted back were finding themselves wrapped in flames as he tossed a fourth Molotov cocktail at them.

“I would love to sympathize with you.” He said finally, watching her as she stopped struggling, realizing that motion was what set off the ignition. “You came here to catch a monster, to make the streets safer. That's got to be painful. But at least you won't spend too much time suffering.”

“It's bearable.” She said quietly as her eyes watered from the smoke.

He laughed, and began walking back towards the doors. “Thank you for helping me get my message across.”

Avery opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of glass shattering cut her off. Stained glass rained down over them as Batman dropped into the room, sweeping a leg out as he landed and knocking the large man from his feet, sliding back towards the door. She felt something almost close to relief wash over her, not that nobody had never died around the Batman. But he did his damnedest to save people.

Purge was on his feet almost immediately, small bomb in his hand that he threw right at the dark figure. Batman pulled his cloak over his body just in time as the liquid, ignited in midair, splashed over him, burning harmlessly against the cape. He jerked back as Purge's fist just missed his chin in a vicious hay-maker, and caught the hand, flipping the other man over. The hood of Purge's coat fell back, and for the first time his face was visible.

The scars extended upward, touchings his cheekbones and temples, leaving the eyes in tact, though there was nothing but scar tissue around his jaw and cheeks. Purge looked up, getting onto his knees and smiling as Batman came towards him again, putting his hands up in surrender.

“I surrender to you, dark knight. But please consider that you can arrest me, maybe throw down a bit more, but Dr. Reinhart and the few still living are going to die while you arrest one man. Smoke's getting thick...and the fires are purging the selfish and decadent as we speak.”

There was only a moment of debate, and Batman turned away from him, going to Avery. He began untying her hands carefully and took the bomb from her, leaving her to clench her shuddering hands together tightly as she got up. 

“The others...and Bruce! Oh God, he's still in here...”

“I'm going to open the other exits. I want you to stay up front and help out anyone who wanders back this way. Get down low.” He replied, his voice thick with the smoke, reaching into his belt and pulling out a mask of black rubber that would fit over her nose and mouth. “Put this on, and breath normally. It'll filter out the carbon monoxide.”

Avery nodded, taking the mask and lifting it to her face, hesitating a moment before she wrapped the elastic band around her face. “Thank you. Again.”

He nodded to her briefly, and made sure she was going to put on the mask before he shot up through the glass he had already broken. Barely wet from the sprinkler system, she ran to the door where Purge had already disappeared. Flipping open her cell phone, she shoved the doors open as wide as they would go, getting immediately soaked in the rain outside. She dialed 9-1-1, letting the cell phone's tracking system take over as she propped the doors open, knowing the catch twenty two she was creating.

Yes, she was opening the doors so people could get out, but the wind was blowing in oxygen that would feed the fires. She was blocking away the horrific parts of the night for now, because if she did not, she would be curled in a ball on the lawn of the burning conservatory, screaming into her knees. For now, there were lives she could help save if nothing else. She just hoped she would see Bruce again, that he was not one of the casualties.

Sirens came wailing in the distance as she stood in the hot main hall, waving to people that were suddenly streaming through, holding coats and skirt edges over their faces. Avery waved at them, drawing them to her as she shouted to them over the sounds of the flames causing the glass all around them to finally crack.

“This way! Out the front doors!” She cried, though it hurt her throat to do so.

People rushed for the front lawns, pouring out into the perfectly manicure lawns as the fire trucks and ambulances pulled up followed by police cruisers. Avery remained in the building, guiding people out until firemen with their yellow coats and full face breathing systems came in, one pulling her out of the building. Her entire body was shaking in the cold rain as she watched the conservatory go up in flames, not even wanting to guess at what the body count would be after the flames were doused and the rubble picked through carefully.

There was suddenly an umbrella over her head, and she turned to find Jim Gordon behind her, shrugging off his trench coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. She remembered then to take off the mask the Batman had given her, pushing it into her little clutch, which she had managed to get a hold of before running out for some reason. Maybe because it had the transmitter still in it.

“This is my fault.” She said softly as he stood silently next to her, watching the conservatory go up in smoke, the firefighters spraying it with high powered hoses.

“The hell it is. He would have started upping his body counts whether we had done anything or not.”

“I denied him the recognition he wanted. I thought it would make him come after me. Make him screw up.”

She tilted her head so he could get a look at the marks on her throat. “Oh, my hunch was right. He's working with Killer Croc.”

Gordon looked at her neck, then made sure the coat was a little tighter around her shoulders. “He would have done this regardless. He's a madman, and a nutcase. He believes what he's doing is more right than anything else in the world.”

“He's good at making the good guys feel wrong.” Avery said softly, watching as she noticed a flash of black fabric come out from inside the conservatory. Batman was helping the firefighters get to the people who were still trapped inside. For some reason, she knew she would be getting another visit from him.


	12. Stolen in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

By the time she got home after answering police questions, talking to Jim Gordon and trying to find Bruce in the throngs of survivors, it was almost two in the morning. Avery thanked the uniformed officer that took her home and walked in her door, locking it behind herself. She kicked off her heels carelessly and flopped down on the couch, her hair a mess on her head of fallen curls that had gotten wet then dried inside the ambulance where Gordon had insisted she get checked out.

Her gown was probably ruined too, not that she much cared. She had been unable to find Bruce, and some horrible part of her mind was whispering that he was dead, that she had gotten him killed. Her hands were shaking as she felt her eyes begin to burn with tears, and she hunched over, putting her face in her hands, struggling to not sob out loud. She was working so hard not to that she jumped when her cell phone suddenly rang. 

Reaching over, she dug the phone out of her purse and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Avery! You're okay!"

Her hand went to her lips, and she stifled a sob, hearing Bruce's voice on the other side of the phone, sounding as anxious as she was. "So are you. I searched for you when Batman was evacuating the conservatory but I couldn't find you. Then I got into police work and by the time I got out, most everyone was gone."

"I got swept away in the first wave of fleeing people. We got out in that hole in the glass that Croc made." He explained. "Are you all right?"

"Some bruises, but I'm okay."

"Not all my dates end like this. I promise. Do you want to have dinner with me in a couple of days?" 

Despite everything, she managed a slight smile. "Sure. But something kind of calm. I can cook dinner or something."

"No, just come over. We'll have dinner at the house."

"Okay." Avery replied, glancing up as someone knocked on her door. "...Hold on a second, there's someone knocking on my door."

Bruce's tone changed from relieved and happy to serious. "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No, but Gordon might have sent someone to check on me."

She was half way to the door when the knock came again, heavier this time, nearly knocking the door off the hinges. "On second thought, I think I'm going to go out the window."

"Let me call the cops for you."

Avery grabbed the transmitter out of her purse that the Batman had given her and she pressed it a bunch of times before tucking it down the front of her dress, heading for the bedroom. Just as she closed the door, she heard the door to her apartment slam open, and she locked the bedroom door, going to the window.

"Go ahead. I'm going out the window if I can." She continued, shoving the window open and slowly climbing out onto the fire escape. As she got the skirt of her dress through, she heard the bedroom door crack once, then buckle behind her. Bruce was saying something to her over the phone, but she did not hear it as she felt arms wrap around her waist, scraping against her dress and tearing at it as the arms squeezed, jerking her backward through the window.

Dropping her phone as she cried out, Avery felt the glass and wood shatter beneath her weight, and the air was knocked from her lungs as she hit the floor. Groaning softly, her entire back felt like it was on fire, and she only managed to get up on her hands and knees before she saw the scaled legs and the taloned feet of Killer Croc in front of her. She tipped her head to look up at him, gasping for air, as someone else grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed a dirty rag that smelled sweet to her against her mouth and nose before the world began to go gray. Avery went limp and fell, caught by the heavy arms that had pulled her through the window.

She groaned softly as she was thrown over a shoulder like a bag of mulch, spattered with rain as she was carried out of her apartment.

********************************************************************

The second that Bruce heard that she had someone knocking at her door, he turned around, grabbing his cowl. He had gotten back to the cave and pulled off the mask before letting Avery know that Bruce was all right. As he thought, she sounded as if she had been crying or about to, and at least he could ease her mind about that. He heard the cry and the distant crash of glass, knowing she had dropped her phone, as well as getting the signal that the transmitter had been turned on multiple times. 

He yanked his cowl on just as Alfred came down into the cave on the elevator, tray of food in his hands. "Leaving already?"

"Avery. She's in trouble. Purge came after her directly." He explained, climbing into the car despite the soot still making his flesh itch. 

"Perhaps she might like to go on a date where she isn't kidnapped next time." Alfred replied as the cover of the car closed.

Batman turned on the tracing component of the transmitter, the GPS in his vehicle picking up on the transmitter, though the signal was faint. It was like there were layers of something between the transmitter and him, but that was easily figured out. They had gone back into the sewers, and Croc and Purge had taken Avery with them. 

He drove through the streets, faster than normal, faster than was probably safe, even for him. But the streets were very empty at that time of night. Batman followed the weak signal until he was very nearly just over it in the street before checking his equipment. The part of him that was Bruce was belittling him for not ending it at the conservatory. He decided right then that it was going to end that night.


	13. Beneath The City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Avery woke, groaning softly. She was cold, sore, everything that nobody ever wanted to wake up as. Her throat ached, and her head was pounding. Something chilly and metal was pressed against her forehead, and while she wanted to see what it was, she was also very against the idea of opening her eyes. Because she was certain it would hurt.

Sitting on her knees, she could feel cold liquid of some kind rising around her bare feet, coming to a slow ebb just beyond her rear and her legs, making her shiver with cold. Avery forced her eyes open, sitting back a little to look around. She was locked inside an old elevator car with a gate closure, handcuffed to the gate. She managed to get to her feet, looking at the water which was choked with leaves, trying to see more of where she was.

The room was one of the massive chambers built to suck away the rain water from the lower streets of Gotham City, before it was pumped out into the harbor. She struggled with the handcuffs for a moment, succeeding only in bruising her wrists. The door to the elevator car was locked tight too, rattling as she tried to get it open. 

As she relaxed a moment, her head against the bars of the cage door, a sound of rushing water enveloped her, and a wave of water from above began engulfing the elevator car prison, making the water rise up to her knees. Panicking slightly, Avery began to struggle again until the water stopped, leaving her knee deep in cold water that was causing her teeth to chatter while she shook.

“I suppose water will have to do.”

She gasped softly, Purge's voice almost in her ear. He came out from the other side of the car, where he had obviously been listening to her struggle, then cry out as she was drenched in more dirty rain water. He had his hood back so she could see his face, the frightening scars, the absolute insanity in his eyes as he looked her over.

“Not as many casualties as I had hoped this evening, but that is easily remedied. Do you know why I like fire?”

“I don't.” She replied, teeth chattering.

“I had a wife once. She was kind of like you, actually. Pretty. Kind. Too smart for her own damn good. And none of that mattered when this city chewed her up and swallowed her, leaving her broken and bruised on a street. Just outside our door. I never heard the screams, having been upstairs in our hole in the wall apartment, wearing ear plugs so I could sleep through the daytime traffic so I could go to my job at night.”

He touched a chain around his neck, one she had not seen before. On the end of it hung a wedding ring, nothing special, with a diamond that was nearly invisible in it, but it was there, and obviously precious. It was also far too small for a man's hand.

“Nobody bothered to help her. Nobody seemed to even notice the woman who had been beaten and left for dead for the four twenty seven in her purse. I found her a couple of hours later when I was ready to go to work. She died there in my arms, bleeding on my coat. 

“So I went to work, and figured I would join her. I dumped gasoline over my head and lit a match. I doubt I have to tell you what happened next.”

Avery held onto the bars of the cage door. “I'm sorry about your wife.”

He came as close as possible, rattling the door of the elevator. She tried to step back but the handcuffs held her in place, and she could feel the heat of his flesh against her fingers.

“I'm not.” He said, crowing it again. “I'm not! Because it showed me what Gotham needed! The fire purified me, it purged the pain and the rage and showed me that the city needs to burn! To rise up out of the ashes as something cleaner and beautiful and new.”

"You're going to get destroyed in your own violence. Don't do this. Let me out of here and we'll go talk to Commissioner Gordon. We'll get you some help."

Purge shook his head, "It's far too late for that."

He turned to walk away from the elevator car and stopped as an old fire alarm began going off. Spinning back, he looked her over, glaring as he thrust a hand through the bars of the cage door and grabbed her hair, yanking her face painfully against the bars, holding her there.

"Someone is close. What did you do? What were you doing instead of answering the door, Dr. Reinhart?"

Avery clenched her teeth against the pain, gasping out softly. "It's the Batman."

After a moment, Purge released her hair and Avery dropped down against the cage door, leaning against it as he walked over to the workbench along the opposite wall. He ignored the cold water that was up over his calves and began hauling out more of the chemicals he had taken from Wayne Industries and filled more of the bottles he had stored away. Shivering, Avery leaned down, turning her head slightly, managing to slide a hairpin from the mess of her hair, yanking out a few strands of hair at the same time.

Ignoring the stinging in her scalp, she turned the pin over and bent it between her hands, until the thin metal snapped. Biting her lower lip, watching him as he worked on more of his signature Molotov cocktails, before twisting her own wrists painfully so she could get at the locks on the handcuffs. Of course, they would have to be police handcuffs, and it was hard to spring the mechanism inside.

She stopped on occasion, only because he turned his head at the sound of her handcuffs moving. Eventually he got up, looking her over for a moment before leaving, his movement through the water softening slowly while he moved away from the chamber. 

“I am sorry about your wife.” She said quietly as he drifted away from her. “That should never happen to anyone.”

He turned back, “The world is sorry for things that aren't their fault. Nobody wants to take responsibility for what they can actually be blamed for. Feel sorry for yourself, Dr. Reinhart. You're the one whose life ends tonight.”

With that chilling prediction, Purge left her alone in the basin room with the water slowly rising. Avery desperately tried to spring the locks on the cuffs, though her hands were shaking nearly too hard to even get the pieces of the hairpin into the locks. She took a slow breath, trying to calm herself, but her heart was thudding in her chest, trying to escape her ribs if she could not escape her tiny cage.

Her wrists were bruising painfully, but she kept working on it, frantic now as the water began rushing in again. The water was rising gradually, but it was not draining away, and she could see how there would be a problem soon. Aside from hypothermia, the elevator car would be completely submerged soon. She would drown if she could not find a way out of the little improvised cage.

Avery was finally rewarded with a click of the latch of the handcuffs opening, and she was able to pull her hands away from the cage door. Dropping the hairpin, knowing she had no idea how to a pick a more complicated lock like the one on the front of the cage that she probably could not reach anyway. Instead, she jerked at the front of the cage even as another wave of water washed over her, the water in the basin now up to her waist.

************************************************************

Purge smiled a bit as he walked through the sewer, waiting quietly for the heavy figure beneath the brown water. Croc rose to the surface, water dripping from his scales as he sucked in a little air, clenching an old chain in his hand. 

“Last of the gates are open, Purge.”

“Good work. The Batman is here. Dr. Reinhart was kind enough to contact him before she came for a visit.”

“Should have let me eat her.” He grumbled. “Almost had her back in the conservatory.” 

“Kill the Batman and you can if you want. I'll be back.” Purge replied, walking past him.

Croc grinned at that particular prospect, and slowly sank beneath the waves. He was motionless beneath the surface of the water, moving along through the sewer tunnels without a sign. When he got to the basin room, he could tell that the storm was flooding it. He could hear the vibrations of the door of the elevator car, the girl was struggling. Good, it meant she was still alive. They tasted better alive.


	14. Under The Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

The smell of the sewers could not get to him. He was aware of the putrescence that was down in that water, but he was more acutely aware of the filth that was above the surface. Purge had killed over two dozen people that night, had injured even more, put lives in danger, and done it all because he was a madman with a goal, a theory, a philosophy of mayhem to make things work better for him inside his mind.

Batman crawled through a narrow opening for air instead of entering the basin where Avery's signal was coming from the obvious way. He was curled in the shadows of the ceiling as he looked down through the broken bars meant to keep animals from crawling into the air ducts decades ago, assessing the situation.

The basin room was meant to catch run-off rain water from the streets of Gotham before they were pumped out into the harbor. But the pumps did not turn on until this room, and many others like it around the city, were full. He saw a work bench nearly submerged in water at one end of the room, countless newspaper clippings tacked to the wall with tape, with nails, anything that would hold.

A worn television with broken rabbit ears sat on a stool, still plugged in and shorting out with a crackle or two of electricity. But it was the make-shift cage that he was interested in. Avery was inside an old elevator car with a cage door that had been locked from the outside. There had been a couple like that in Wayne Manor, and while he had never gotten stuck in one, he could imagine the claustrophobia of being in one.

Rain water was pouring in from a grated opening just behind the elevator car, splashing down on it slowly until a heavy wave came through, soaking the car and Avery. The water was up past her waist, and he could see that she was panicking each time another wave caused the water to rise another inch or so. He could hear her from the transmitter that was still somewhere on her in that ruined satin gown, her hair plastered against her neck and face.

“Please...please don't leave me here.” She muttered softly, obviously thinking that nobody could hear her.

Anger at the abuse of the innocent, of the fear coursing through her was close to choking him while he was alone and checking things out. Bruce could be upset about it later. At least he was not to blame for this. That had not always been the case for people who worked for the police and had contact with him. His face grim, he reached for the laser cutter in his belt, and the bars came free easily and silently.

Slipping into the basin room, he heard her cry out softly again as another wave of water doused the elevator car, and she rattled the cage door frantically. The water was up to her breasts and he knew she was panicking over the idea of drowning in the brown rain water run off. He slowly got into position over the car and lowered himself silently into the water. 

Avery's face brightened with relief so powerful he was certain she was going to cry as she grabbed the bars. He could see handcuffs hanging from one of her wrists, the other cuff swinging open as she got as close to the cage door as possible without pressing against it.

“Batman...he's skulking around here somewhere, armed. I don't know what his particular plan is, aside from kill me. He wasn't one of those villains who so kindly spouted off the details of his psychotic ideas to burn down Gotham City before he left.”

Batman nodded, jerking his lock pick out of the pouch where it sat on his belt. “Stand back.”

She nodded, stepping back and curling into the furthest corner, making herself as small as possible. He would get her out of there, get her somewhere safe, then come back for Purge and Killer Croc. There was a rush of water, and both he and Avery were soaked to the skin, again in Avery's case as she huddled at the back of the elevator car. He was about to jam the lock pick into the lock below the surface of the water as her eyes got suddenly wide, and he turned just in time to miss getting a chunk of his shoulder bitten off by Killer Croc.

He dropped the lock pick in the water as he brought up both hands to catch the claws that tried to rip out his throat as he jerked his head back to avoid getting his face torn off. Batman bent his knees under his body and jerked his head forward, using his forehead to strike Croc not in the forehead, which was probably harder than a normal human's, but his nose, brief stump that it was.

Batman heard motion in the water behind him as Croc jerked backward and he caught a glimpse of Avery taking a breath and ducking down in the water. It occurred to him that she was looking for the lock pick that he lost. Only slightly relieved that she was more than able to take matters into her own hands, he turned his attention back to Croc, who tried to put a fist under his chin. 

Dodging easily, he grabbed the huge wrist and used it as leverage to kick both feet up and plant them in Croc's solar plexus, listening as he heard the water come rushing in again, and Avery come up for a gasping breath for air. He spared a second to glance and see the lock pick in her hands as she held it out of the water now up to her shoulders, trying to figure it out as the water continued to rise.

That second was all it took for Croc to land a hit, throwing him nearly all the way across the basin room to hit the submerged work bench and roll into the water. Feeling the ribs crack, he grit his teeth and got up, standing on the bench so the water only came up to his calves, looking for some sign of Croc. Avery had dived back beneath the surface of the water, obviously trying to unlock the cage door again, but then re-emerged, gasping for air, looking at the lock pick again, panic clouding her ability to think.

Batman was about to go to her when a clawed hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him down into the water, leaving him short on air. Reaching up, he jerked a small breathing device from his belt and popped it in his mouth, taking the breath of pure oxygen gratefully. It did not fix the fact that Croc had a hold of him and was dragging him under the water until his air ran out or until he managed to get close enough to just bite his head off.

Curling in the water, he jerked out the under water welding torch he kept for problems like this and bars under water. He flicked it on and pressed it against the flesh of the claw attempting to crush his ankle through his armored boot, hearing Croc make some kind of noise under the water, probably a roar of pain. He kicked for the surface, rising just as Croc leapt from the water as well, the flesh on one hand blackened and dead. 

Jerking a pair of batarangs from his belt, he threw them at Croc, knowing they would do little more than ricochet off the scaly hide, but they were more just a distraction. As Croc was knocking them away, one of which had gotten caught in a meaty place between scales on his left shoulder, Batman grabbed onto his arm and clung to his back, wrapping his arms around Croc's neck to cut off his air.

Killer Croc lived up to his name and instantly went into a death roll in the water, churning the water, making heavy waves splash up onto the walls of the basin room. He tried to dislodge his rider, but Batman's arms bulged in his suit, cutting off any millimeter of room he would have to draw breath, knowing it would take longer to get him to pass out than a normal person. He was disoriented from being rolled around in the water, but he managed to keep a hold of the breather in his mouth, and for now the panic that might have threatened to set in was kept at bay by that relief.

Claws dug into his sides and tore holes in his cape, but he kept hold, letting the memory of walking into the east wing of the conservatory and finding those claws around Avery's throat drive him to keeping his muscles tense for what felt like hours. It actually took only a little more than five minutes before he felt Croc go limp beneath him and drop into the water, floating on the surface as a dead weight, his head turned to the side, breathing slowly.

Letting go, he pushed the unconscious man-beast aside, looking back at the elevator car where Avery was still trapped. His eyes widened, his legs already pushing him over to the elevator car, no matter how badly he hurt. It was almost completely submerged in the water, the cage part completely beneath the surface, her fingers peeking out for just a moment before sinking below the surface as well. 

He dove beneath the water, unable to get a decent amount of power behind his legs to just kick the door open, the water dragging on his limbs, making him slow and weak when he needed them the most. Batman hit a button in his mask and lenses came down over his eyes so he could see below the surface of the water, a light illuminating the dirty water as he breathed slowly. A moment of patience would be enough to find what he was looking for, even if it meant another moment beneath the water for her.

Though he could only see about a foot in front of himself he could see Avery, unconscious, leaning against the cage door of the elevator car where she had collapsed after holding her breath as long as she probably could. But the lock pick was still in her hand, loosely clasped there, waiting for him. He pulled it away and jammed it into the lock, popping it open instantly and pushing her back to keep her limbs from getting caught in the compressing cage door. 

Reaching in, he wrapped an arm around her and held her to his body, breaking the surface instantly and using one of his grappling guns to pull them both out of the water and into the tunnel leading into the basin room. The two or three seconds gave him a moment to note that she was unresponsive, her flesh pale and waxy and her lips cyanotic. He set her down on the wet floor of the access tunnel and leaned down, opening her mouth and beginning rescue breathing.


	15. Funeral Pyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

She was not breathing. A minute of forcing air down her throat and she was not breathing.

"Come on Avery." He growled. "Breathe, damn it."

Batman leaned over and pinched her nose, huffing another breath of air down her throat, then moved to start chest compressions. He only had to push down twice, feeling her ribs dance beneath his fists before the water came up and she began coughing. He put her over onto her side so that she could cough out all the water in her lungs, then eased her onto her back. She was shaking with cold, but her eyes slowly focused on him. He watched her for signs of shock. 

"Make your junk easier to use." She croaked at him.

Only the stoic discipline he had cultivated over his years of training kept him from smiling at her first words. Instead, he unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around her against the cold and the shock that would probably be on its way. She did not move as he tucked the ends around her body and set her up against the wall, moving to wrap it around her legs and feet bare of shoes or even pantyhose. He could feel how cold she was even through the fabric of the cape, which was insulated to make it warm even when soaking wet as it was.

"Hold on just a little longer." He finally said. "Gordon's on his way."

"My chest is on fire." Avery muttered.

"CPR isn't pleasant. But you'll be okay." Batman said, standing up.

"If I don't get another chance, thank you. Again."

He looked down at her. "You don't have to thank me."

"No, but I did. You sound like some debutante's angry hairdresser who just touched me up when you say that. Just so you know."

Again with the forcing away of a smile, but he turned away without a word and left her in the access tunnel. Her head slumped to the side, but he knew she was just resting, and Batman disappeared into the basin, where the pump had started working. It was slowly draining water from the basin room, but it would not have been in time to save Avery's life had he not been there. There was no sign of Croc either, but it was possible that he had floated off somewhere.

The pumps were working hard, and when he dropped into the basin the water was down to his waist already. He could see the elevator car where Avery had been trapped again, and saw something suspiciously like fingernail tracks along the side where the door had been locked in. He did not want to think about those frantic, oxygen starved moments before she passed out, thinking he had failed to save her.

Instead, he used that anger, let it burn and give new life to his muscles as he headed the only other way that Purge could have gone. Picking a small vial and light out of his belt, he sprayed a liquid on the ground, and turned on the light. There was a luminescence on the ground, a sign of the chemical reaction between combustible liquids and his own mix of chemicals. 

There were no lights here, but it was better that way. He could walk silently enough along the small ledges on either side of the drainage tunnel, even run silently enough. Batman took off at a run, spraying the chemical in his hand on occasion when he came to a corner or a fork, making sure that he was going the right way any time his path might have changed even slightly.

It was almost too much like a trap when he finally caught up to Purge. The scarred man was busy pouring out bottles upon bottles of his chemicals, letting it spread out in a puddle of sickly smelling liquid that would have burned the delicate tissue inside anyone else's nostrils. But he did not seem to notice.

Batman checked the small GPS inside his cowl, and knew approximately where he was in the city. Somehow, he was not surprised to find that they were directly beneath the police department. Purge wanted to start a fire that the Gotham City Fire Department would be unable to stop at its source. A chemical fire in the sewers. It would be too dangerous to do anything but let the city's symbol of law and order burn up and prove one more point. 

Purge uncorked another bottle and began pouring it out, only to have it knocked from his hand with one of Batman's batarangs. Batman was already somewhere else than where the projectile came from as he hid in the shadows, another of the sharp edged weapons in his hand, while Purge backed up, striking a match.

“You can't stop it now!” He howled, lifting the match high. “Gotham will burn, starting with the false sign of justice for no one but those who can afford it! I will end the corruption you have played into for far too long.”

Ignoring the speech, recognizing it as the ravings of a man who was so far over the edge that there was no way back, Batman threw one of the batarangs, but did not look to see if it landed a hit or not. He was already using his grappling gun to get over Purge in the room, dropping down on top of him as he dropped his box of matches.

The two of them tumbled to the ground, and Batman felt the cold, piercing pain of a blade go into his side. Stupid, he had not checked to see if Purge had any other weapons on him. The knife had slipped in between the plates of his armor, but it had not pierced his lung. It was just painful as hell and he was bleeding out as he stumbled back, immediately pulling the knife from his side.

Alfred was going to insist on giving him another tetanus shot. 

Snarling, Purge stepped back, searching himself for another incendiary device or a match, something to finish his job. They both smelled of the chemicals, of gasoline and other things that made the eyes sting and the skin itch to prove that they were nothing to mess with. His own eyes felt like they were going to burn out of his head, and he hit the goggle feature again, which gave him some protection against it.

“I won't let you get in the way. Not now. Not when I'm so close.” Purge muttered.

“Put down any other weapons you have.” Batman said, voice like granite. 

The man across from him was beyond fear, but not beyond intimidation. If he were, he would have never gone after Avery Reinhart for not giving him his moment in the sun. There was even a moment of hesitation in his movements as he watched the Batman warily, wondering where the next projectile weapon would come from.

A moment passed, and then he smiled, taking a step or two back, just so that he was standing in the puddle of inflammable liquids. “If you insist.”

Already knowing it was a trap, Batman ran forward just as Purge took one of his own home-made bombs and smashed it into his own chest, a few fingers flying off in the explosion. Batman slammed into him before fire could fall from his body and into the pool of gasoline. They both went tumbling to the moist ground, and both of them were on fire. 

He could feel the warmth through his suit, but he had another moment or two before it actually began doing any damage. Purge was not so lucky, being more drenched in the chemicals than he had been. He went up in flames, screaming and laughing as his flesh peeled away and his eyeballs boiled in the wake of the intense heat. Batman rolled him around on the ground while patting out his own chest, though nothing he did seemed to smother the flames. 

Instead, they ate through Purge's clothing, sloughing away flesh, leaving nothing but blackened muscles and a gold chain and a ring on the end of it, though the chain began melting away in the flames too. The screaming had stopped though, and a lump settled in his throat. He had not killed the man, but he had been unable to save him, as insane and violent as he had been. 

Still smacking away flames that were ready to melt his suit and lick at his own flesh, he frowned and stood up, reaching up and closing Purge's eyes. There was no movement in the chest, nothing that would indicate that he was still alive. Batman put out one last flame on his body and felt the knife wound in his side drop blood on the ground. He grimaced in pain, using it, working through it, turning away from the charred corpse and heading back for where he had left Avery.

He would leave the cape with her. He had more. Instead, he called the manor, hearing Alfred pick up on the other end. 

“Alfred, get out the suture kit. And a pint of blood.”

“Another successful date with Dr. Reinhart, sir?”

“She's alive. Gordon's people have her.”

“That will make having her over for dinner considerably easier.”

Batman felt the smile creep to the corner of his lips. “Make sure she gets flowers at her hospital room. I'm coming home.”

“Before dawn. It must be a special occasion.”

“I got stabbed.”

“Well, it is Saturday night.”

Batman ended the conversation before he could blather out what had happened. A man was dead because he had not been fast enough. It added pain to his side as he got close enough to hear the voices, someone telling Gordon that there were signs of Purge in the basin room, and others coming running past the figure hidden in the shadows. He waited until he saw Jim Gordon walk by before he spoke.

“He's ahead.”

Gordon jumped, but was smart enough to move into the shadows too, so the cops coming past him did not see the two of them. “Purge? We know. Dr. Reinhart pointed us in your direction.”

“Set himself on fire after getting doused in chemicals. He almost managed to set the police precinct building on fire.”

Jim nodded, “I know you would have saved him if you could. Looks like you were on fire yourself.”

The blood was too dark to see, but parts of his suit were melted, “I'll manage. Dr. Reinhart?”

“Cold, aching, and possibly sick from being in that water for so long. But she tried to give me a report before they carted her off to Gotham General. Paramedics said that she'd be okay after a few days though. We found her cell phone beneath the shattered window in her apartment. Last call was from Bruce Wayne, apparently, with the kidnapping on it as well. If we find Croc, we've got him on escaping as well as kidnapping now.”

Batman nodded, turning to leave. Gordon nearly put out a hand to stop him, to tell him to go get checked out by the professionals, but he knew how that would go over. Instead, he watched Batman disappear into the darkness again, just before the smell of charred flesh reached his nose. And the sound of one of his men.

“Commissioner! He's gone!”


	16. A Change In Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

By the time Killer Croc woke up, he was nearly swept out into Gotham City Harbor. He made a point of swimming back as quickly as he could, and found the tunnels he had been occupying with Purge were swarming with police and paramedic teams and cleaning crews. He saw that red haired bitch being loaded onto a stretcher about to be pulled up to the surface. So she was still alive. He would sure as hell take care of that later.

The idea of how he would do so brought a frightening smile to his mouth, and he watched as the idiot police turned away from the charred corpse that was supposed to be Purge. The chest was moving, not that anyone with normal eyes would notice this, and Croc waited until they got too damn busy with “assessing the situation” to even notice the bulk of him slinking forward and picking up what was left of his boss and taking him away.

He heard them start shouting that Purge was gone, but they would never catch the two of them. Croc knew the sewers better than he had own his own smart-mouthed, screaming mamma who had berated him every day for fourteen years. Because that was when he wised up and just ate her. Now he took another turn or two, and stopped, setting Purge down.

“You're messed up.” Croc muttered. “I'm no doctor.”

Purge moved his mouth a little, attempting to speak, but Croc realized he did not have much of a tongue any more and looked down at him, knowing it would be kinder to just put the bastard out of his misery. So he just kept talking as he tried to make up his mind.

“Guess I can go out and get some bandages. Maybe some of that burn cream stuff. But you ain't walking again. You're not gonna talk again either. Maybe you oughtta tap finger once for no, twice for yes so we can at least talk or something.”

“Maybe you should just figure out that he's a crispy critter.”

Croc turned his head at the familiar voice. Nobody forgot the voice of Joker, even if they wanted to. Frankly, he thought his voice, as neurotic and scary as it was, was kinda pleasant. Like being back at home with momma when she was just ignoring him, not screaming or beating him. Joker wandered out of one of the tunnels, looking like he had lost a lot of weight, but just as chipper as ever.

“You got some business down here?” Croc asked.

Joker lifted his empty hands, the fingernails all trimmed neatly except for one, which had been filed down easily into a point. Croc knew that it was dosed with that stuff he liked to infect people with, the stuff that killed them while they laughed during the entire thing. But fingernails were not nearly strong enough to get through his hide. Hell, the only person who had ever really made him hurt was the Batman. And that bitch criminologist who had gotten her pretty-boy boyfriend to get her mace out.

“Just a bit. A job offer, if you're up for it.” Joker said, doing a little twirl. “We can use a man like you.”

“Need more muscle, huh?” Croc was not delusional. He knew why the Batman-league criminals wanted him. Not that he had any problems rending flesh or snapping bone.

“You're smarter than you look.” Joker deadpanned.

“Can't. Wanna but can't.” Croc said, looking down at Purge. The guy might have been a mess, but they were partners. He had been working with him for months now. “Gotta job.”

Joker smiled, an expression that could even make Killer Croc feel a little chilled. He looked up as if he were trying to make a decision, his tone coaxing, as if he were not about to suggest something horrible.

“And if your current employer ended up not breathing?”

“Well, I guess I could then.”

Joker's eyes narrowed, “Then make your boss stop breathing. Frankly I don't like anyone with principles that firm, even if they are about mass genocide via fire. Besides, I hate how smoke makes my suit smell.”

It took a moment, but he got it. Put Purge out of his misery and he could go back to working with Joker. It was not the best job in the world, but it would be better than skulking around in the sewers again. And on occasion Joker did toss him a live henchman or two to take care of in any way he chose, and he liked when the muscles were a little chewy from toting huge automatic weapons.

Croc turned his eyes onto the pathetic form of Purge, still lying on the ground, his finger frantically tapping no over and over again. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached down, picking the burned man up by something that might have been fabric melted to skin, or something that might have been skin at one time. Purge was wordlessly screaming, though the sound came out choked, like a talking doll that was broken.

He opened his mouth and tore out his throat first, chewing thoughtfully and spitting out the tough cartilage of the Adam's apple and vocal cords. Joker smiled, satisfied, waving Killer Croc to come with him back the way he had approached from.

“Glad to have you on the team, my good man.”

“We're gonna take a shot at the Batman, right?”

Joker grinned, “I like how straightforward you are. And who doesn't want that?”

Croc tore a chunk out of Purge's thigh, chewing the blackened skin and raw muscle slowly as they walked. It was the first time he had even felt like eating since the night of the conservatory. Whatever that bitch's boytoy had forced down his gullet had played havoc with his stomach for days later. But this was just right and cooked just the way he liked. Crunchy on the outside, raw on the inside, and no clothes to contend with.

“And that doctor.”

“Oh?” Joker leaned over as if he were interested. “Do tell.”

“Purge was nuts about killin' her. She kept all his publicity garbage quiet and then the Batman came after her twice when we were going to finish it off. Bitch also had someone mace me.”

Joker fluttered his eyes, “Sounds like someone is in love.”

“Got plans for her.” Croc growled. “She'll wish she'd died.”

There was a peel of laughter next to him and obviously Croc did not get the joke. But Joker seemed to as he bowed, opening a gate for the lizard man, cackling the entire way. “She'll be around. If the Batman pops up just for her, she'll be around. That type can never get enough trouble.”

Croc nodded and tossed away the nearly meatless leg of Purge, having pulled it from the hip socket and stripped it down to the tendons and the bones in no time. “I want her. We've got a score to settle.”

“Sounds like a date she'll never forget. Now, maybe you'd like to hear what is going on.”

Croc was well aware that he was being patronized, maybe because Joker wanted him to help that badly, maybe because the clown was actually kind of afraid of him. Not that he really cared. The prospects of getting rid of the Batman, of getting the revenge that he had already built up in his mind, those were enough to make him want to work with Joker. It might not have been the best idea, but it would happen, mostly because it meant something huge.

Joker never did anything by halves.


	17. Recovering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

A week and a half after she had nearly died and had been revived by Batman, Avery walked back into the Gotham City Police Department to a soft round of applause. She smiled, and took hands and good wishes gracefully and gratefully, feeling appreciated for the first time since she had come to Gotham. She finally got to her office, and sitting there was a little box on her desk, and a note in handwriting that had become familiar. 

“A welcome back present. See you tonight. Bruce.”

She opened the box and nearly gasped like a woman on television or in a commercial at the necklace in the box. It had to have been worth a few thousand dollars, the pendant an oval star ruby with several diamonds around it at the points of the platinum setting. Avery knew she should have sent it right back, but arguing with Bruce only meant he got around her in some other way.

When she told him he did not have to keep visiting her in the hospital every day, he came at night, donating to the hospital so that he could have special visiting hours. Then when she went to a hotel while the Gotham City PD paid to have her door and window fixed, he moved her to the Plaza, and when she chided him about the money he was spending to put her in the penthouse suite, he then bought the hotel so that she was staying for free. The only time he was not throwing around his world's wealthiest bachelor title was when she was having a quiet dinner with him alone.

Avery had spent three days in the hospital after being picked up by Gordon's men, doing her best to give him a useful statement before she was carted away. Bruised ribs from the CPR, a slight cold from the near hypothermia, a bruised back and shoulders, cuts and scrapes, and general malaise were the only things wrong with her though, and after three days of horrible hospital food, she signed herself out.

She was still unaware that Batman had come to check on her every night while she slept, fully aware that Killer Croc was still out there, and Purge's body had disappeared, thought he was presumed dead for now. Avery glanced down at the ruby pendant again and pulled it out of the velvet case, putting it around her throat and picked a compact out of her desk drawer, looking at how it looked around her throat. It would be beautiful with the dress hanging in her car for later.

There was a knock on her door and she looked up to see James Gordon standing in her doorway. Avery smiled and waved him in. “Come on in.”

“Welcome back.” He said, setting a Tupperware container in his hands on her desk, “Barbara made these for you. But I see it's not the only welcome back gift you got today.”

Avery felt her cheeks burn a little and she touched the pendant, unclasping it and putting it back in the box. “I guess that's why some girls are tearing each other apart to date a billionaire. I didn't think he would be so nice.”

She reached for the Tupperware container and her eyes lit up as she saw the homemade cookies inside. “Dear God...”

Jim laughed as she immediately bit into one, then offered him the container. He took one and closed her office door, sitting in the chair across from her desk. “You didn't have to come back so soon. You could have taken more time.”

Shaking her head, she finished chewing the bite of cookie, “I was going nuts, sitting around in that hotel room, afraid to touch anything. I can only go to so many golf games and wait for Bruce during meetings. I'm not made for being a society girlfriend. I needed to get back. Killer Croc is still out there, and we haven't heard a thing out of Joker since he escaped.”

Jim had to smile, despite the topic at hand. He had never seen a woman who was able to concentrate so fully on work while stuffing a cookie into her mouth, ignoring the thousands of dollars worth of jewelry in front of her for talk about serial killers and super criminals. Nodding, he finished the cookie he was eating. Barb did make the best cookies.

"You're already working on what I was going to ask you about. Whether you felt ready to take on something like that. The Joker is the reason my last criminologist has a nice padded cell at Gotham General. I don't think telling you to be careful is going to do anything, but somehow you've got our guardian watching your back. Must have made an impression on him."

"I managed to get myself nearly killed. I'm sure I did." Avery replied wryly. "But I understand your concerns, Jim. I'm not going to be nonchalant about this. If I get in trouble, believe me, I'll be calling for help, not getting myself dug in deeper. Not again. I've had my fill."

She looked down at her hands. Her fingernails had torn in those last desperate moments before she passed out in the water, tearing at the gate which kept her trapped and unable to breathe. Bruce had seemed to notice and the first day in the penthouse hotel room, a woman came knocking on the door and managed in a thick accent to tell Avery that Mr. Wayne had sent her up for a manicure and pedicure. The hard gel nail tips were more beautiful than her own nails. Bruce made it so easy to get swept up in him.

"But I want to do some poking around," She continued. "Look at his old hang outs. Have some officers see if any of his old associates have seen him. Anything that might point us in the right direction."

"You know you've got the full cooperation of the folks outside. Bullock is working this too."

Avery attempted not to cringe, but she was unable to keep it completely under control. "Great."

"He's one of the ones I can trust. I don't want you with anyone who I can't vouch for." Jim continued. "You've been in the papers and people like Joker feed on that stuff. Not that I have to mention that Killer Croc hasn't been found. Even Batman thought Purge was dead, but then he went missing too, so that's still there."

"I'll be careful." She said, breaking apart another cookie. "I promise."

Jim nodded and stood up. "I meant it though, welcome back. Glad you're still with us."

"So am I." Avery replied.

Most of the day was filled with people welcoming her back, and an uncomfortable hour with Harvey Bullock, prying information out of him where Joker's cronies might have been, what he might have already heard. He obviously had no desire to work with some heeled crime theorist who had been on the front page of the Gazette just for surviving, when cops who died all the time barely got a mention five pages in. But she had files to read through, and was working on them even when she noticed that most of the first shift had left and second shift was in full swing.

Avery finally decided to pack it in when the sun was finally setting, the velvet box from Bruce in her bag along with more files, having taken her car to work that day so that she could drive out to Wayne Manor that night. Bruce had invited her out again, and she was putting more miles on her car driving from the city out to Bruce's huge house than from Gotham City to Metropolis. It was worth it though, he had turned out to be far more interesting than she had thought he would be. More compassionate too. Surprises that pleasant were rare in life.

She eventually pulled up from the long drive in front of the manor house, and looked at the lights already illuminating the man windows, the old mansion as beautiful as it had been before it had to be rebuilt. She glanced at the dress hanging from the back window, and looked at the house again before taking off her coat and wiggling out of her suit jacket, reaching into the back seat for the dress. Avery had just been ready to unbutton her blouse when she jumped, hearing a gentle knock on her passenger side window.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she saw Alfred standing outside, an indulgent smile on his face. She hit the button to roll down the window, and he tipped his head into the car. 

"Dr. Reinhart, if you would like to do that inside, Master Bruce has been called away to a meeting, but he promised he would be back soon."

"Alfred, you can just call me Avery." She said, gathering her things, "And if Bruce isn't in the house, then thank you, I will."

"As you wish, Dr. Avery." He replied, walking around to the driver's side and opening the door for her.

Avery laughed softly, shaking her head as she got out of the car, carrying her attache case and her dress with her. Alfred opened the door to the house for her and led her inside, already carrying her coat for her. She had been to the house a couple of times, and found one of the fifteen or so bathrooms with relative ease. 

When she emerged in the gray backless sheath dress with the lace at her wrists, the necklace around her throat, Alfred was waiting for her with a glass of dark red wine in the Waterford crystal that they seemed to use for every day things. Avery took it, thank him before reproaching him.

“You don't have to wait on me Alfred. If I want something I can get up and walk to the kitchen.”

“You're a guest, Dr. Avery, and that's just how we do things here.”

She shook her head. “Have a seat with me while I'm waiting. All I have for company are files if you leave me alone.”

Alfred escorted her to the sitting room where a fire was burning cheerily in the fireplace. “Want to know all of Master Bruce's secrets?”

Avery smiled, “Actually, I'd rather hear about you, if you don't mind. I work for the police department, I can get his record if I want it.”

“Nobody wants to hear about an old man.” Alfred replied, but still sat down with her, soliciting one of many laughs from her that evening.


	18. Leads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Another false lead.

Batman had checked every hidden room and office of the Joyful Noise Candy factory and there had been no sign of Joker at all. A tip had been called into the police, and he went to check it out before any of the officers could respond. But it was just a few days until Halloween, and anyone with make up on was suspect now. It had turned out to be nothing, but he had gotten the chance to stop a mugging while he was heading to the factory.

Now it was time to leave, the clock in his cowl telling him exactly how late Bruce was for his date with Avery. She would be understanding, as usual, and it would eat at Bruce a little each time she gave him that gentle smile telling him that she did not mind waiting. She was probably reading case files or something on his couch.

His mind snapped immediately back to the topic at hand as he heard a scream in the distance. Jumping down from his place on top of the factory where he had shimmied in via a skylight fire escape, he ran across the three buildings to the other side of the block where the scream had come from. Maybe it was just his lucky night, but he saw a group of three men around a woman backed against a building wall, one of them going through her purse.

What he considered luck was that all three were wearing the make up of the Joker gang. He dropped down between the three thugs and the woman, immediately incapacitating one of them with a punch to the throat that crushed the larynx and caused pain but would leave him able to breath, gasping for air on the ground. The other two pulled knives, dropping the purse, items scattering around on the ground.

A kick knocked the knife from the first of the thug's hands, a second punch to the jaw rattling his head enough that he dropped to the ground, unconscious. The second backed away, swinging the knife as if he were batting back a lion with a burning piece of wood. Batman frowned as he stalked forward, catching the wrist and clamped fingers down on the pressure point, causing the thug to drop the knife.

He kicked out, catching the third of the trio in the solar plexus with his heel, sending him gasping for air down on the ground. Kneeling quickly, he used zip ties to bind the first two thugs' hands behind their backs, the sound of police sirens in the distance. He glanced at the woman, who was still cowering but was all in one piece. The police would be able to help her more than he could.

Glancing at the third figure, he frowned and grabbed him by the front of his dirty t-shirt, firing his grappling gun into the air. The thug was still gasping for air as they got to the top of a nearby building. Batman dragged him by the back of his shirt, toes scraping the roof as they leapt across and up to an even taller building, finding the first one that suited his needs. He left the thug gazing over the edge and found a piece of drywall lying on the roof from recent renovations.

Batman tossed it over the side, letting the jerk in the clown make up watch it hit the pavement and shatter into a million pieces down below. Then he reached down and picked him up with both hands, letting his feet just barely touch the edge of the building.

“That's some familiar make up.” Batman growled quietly. “Where is he?”

The thug panicked, kicking his feet hard to try and stay on the building, “What're you talking about?! It's Halloween man! Nothing else.”

Batman was silent, and just shook him, taking one more step towards the edge, so the thug had nothing to hold onto but those rock-like arms. “Where? I won't ask again.”

"A...a farm. A farm outside of town. Off highway 78. It has a faded sign in front of it, I don't know what it's called!"

"A farm?" His voice was gravel on steel as he shook the thug again. "Which?"

"I swear, I don't really know! I wasn't driving! It's the one with all the pumpkins on the faded sign!"

Frowning for a moment, Batman let the man drop, wrapping him in rope before he actually fell, leaving him swinging from a fire escape. The woman telling the police that there was a third man and that the Batman saved her would be sign enough that they needed to look for him hanging from something. Batman left him there and went back to the car, dropping down inside and pointed it out of the city, west, towards the areas that had been as of yet untouched by urban sprawl.

He had a forty minute drive ahead of him as he reached over, touching the computer in the dashboard, turning it on to voice command.

"Search, Gotham City, autumn orchard, pumpkin farm."

The screen instantly popped up with the search results, and he glanced at the first couple, which were listings for grocery stores, finally coming across something in an old news article, about a farm outside of the city that was slowly declining because of vast supermarkets able to offer premiums on autumn items for much cheaper and people did not have to drive as far to get there. Glancing away from the road just for a moment or two, he looked at the photo available. His fingers touched the screen, choosing the photograph.

"Zoom in, twenty five percent."

A moment of pixelation and the photograph cleared, larger this time. His eyes flicked to the screen again and he saw the faded sign out front, and went back to the search engine, putting in the name Calgary Farms, getting articles about the farm, as well as the obituary of the owner, and the advertisement of the farm being for sale. But there were no records of it ever being purchased. He put the address into the GPS system, and hit the gas as he headed out into the outskirts of the city, where factories that were still in use churned out products and smoke, the street lights waning and getting further apart as he headed down the highway.

A glance at the clock let him know he was already an hour late for dinner with Avery. He grimaced and pressed the gas a little harder as he shot out onto the highway, looking for the hard to see turn off to the farm. Then again, every moment of personal frustration was just more determination to make things safer. He touched a button in the car and it instantly called the manor house, the phone picking up promptly.

"Wayne Manor."

"Is she there?"

"She's been here for an hour sir. I've been keeping her company. But she also has a large attache case of things I know she wants to read. You may have found the perfect girl, one who doesn't care about your money, and would rather sit around and read case files than have dinner with you." Alfred replied dryly.

"Don't let her leave. I'll try to be back in another hour or so. If she gets mad, I don't know, what makes women like that happy?"

"Boyfriends that show up, sir."

"...I'll be home soon."

"Very good, sir."

Batman hung up the phone and began looking at the side of the highway, the turn off coming up shortly. Noting that there were very few people heading out of Gotham City that time of night, he did not use any kind of turn signal as he turned onto the gravel road, the lights going out completely, leaving just the headlights of the car to guide his way.


	19. The Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

He left the car on the long gravel drive, knowing exactly how much noise it was making even as he pulled up at less than ten miles per hour. Batman got out and began flanking the house, walking through the apple trees that were still viable though the farm its self seemed as if it had not been worked in a long time. The only things really unusual was the fact that one of the fields was actually full of pumpkins still on the vine, the other being that there was light coming from inside the boarded up windows of the ancient farm house.

The front and back doors were boarded up, but there had to be some way to get inside. If there were lights, there were people. Batman climbed to the roof and found the window of the attic ready to open, managing to slip inside thought it was a very tight squeeze with his cape and body armor. It was one of those ancient, Norman Rockwell kinds of attics though, with dusty trunks and abandoned dress mannequins and signs that sometime a good twenty years ago, children had played dress up on the worn floorboards.

Careful to keep from making noise, finding the floor studs and walking along those instead of the ancient boards, he found the door to the attic, opening it silently and slipping out into the farm house. The upper level of the house was dark and silent, but the smell hit him almost immediately. It was sickly sweet, mixed with the scent of dying plant matter, and he knew that there was at least one dead body in that house.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly made it to the steps down to the ground floor, the light coming from the kitchen. There was no noise, no evidence of anyone actually in the house. He was careful as he crept into the kitchen and found nobody actually there. That was, if one did not count the bodies. Three people sat at the kitchen table, an elderly woman and two older adults, dressed in jeans and flannel, all decomposing with rictus grins, the ones that came from a dose of Joker Juice. 

It was useless to check them all for heartbeats, considering the massive amounts of maggots curling in and out of their orifices, the eyes completely gone, the noses swarming as well as the mouths. He knew he would have to call Gordon and get some help out here for these poor people, but first it was time to find Joker and his people. It made sense now that the house had been boarded up from the outside and the lights on inside.

He made a quick check of the rest of the house and slowly made his way back up to the attic. He had the rest of the farm to check out, but Joker was either here, or had been here. Slipping out of the window, he came down on the side of the roof behind the house, and went around the pumpkin field towards the barn. The field looked as if it had actually been maintained, and maintained recently, though why Joker would be growing pumpkins escaped him for the moment.

Batman stopped at one of the vines, looking down at an odd sight. It looked as if someone had been feeding the vines a special mixture of some kind, several of the vines having bowls with candle wicks coming out of them and fed right into cuts in the vines. The bowls were empty, but he picked one up anyway and tucked it away to analyze later. 

He approached the barn, the red structure huge and stoic in the night. It was only out this far, or at Wayne Manor did he ever see the moon and stars as he could see them currently. Frowning, he walked up to the barn and used his grappling gun to pull himself up to the roof. There were several holes in the roof, the tiles weak from years of hard weather and neglect. If he was not careful, he would fall right through into the barn floor below, and that would hurt, no matter how much hay was on the barn floor. 

Slipping down into one of the holes, he dropped to the ground in the darkness, able to make out several shapes suddenly aside from old beams and spider webs iridescent in the sudden light. Lights flashed on, huge barn spotlights, and he felt himself caught right in the middle as he heard a familiar laugh in the back corner, as well as the orange glow of a cigarette.

“Slow mover. We've been waiting on you for forever! I thought you'd have picked up one of my little groups of decoys a lot sooner and gotten him to squeal like the little piglets they are.”

More laughter and Joker stepped out into the light, making a dramatic bow while blowing out smoke from the cigarette he was puffing. “But you showed, and that's what matters, right Bats?”

“You're going back to Arkham.”

“After I lost all that weight to look fabulous for the holidays? I don't think so.” Joker replied with a cackle.

He flicked out the cigarette, letting it smolder in a pile of hay as the trap doors built into the barn suddenly gave way beneath the hay-covered floor. Batman felt himself drop down, and caught just the edge of the doors, lifting himself up immediately. He barely pulled himself to the edge before Joker's loafer caught him in the jaw and sent him back to hanging down at the edge, trying to clear his head.

“I really should hang out more in the country.” Joker mused. “I had no idea how much fun it was to be a farmer.”

Down below, lights went on and the sound of machinery revved up. Batman looked down, seeing that a massive combine harvester had been propped up so that the blades in the front were right below the trap door, and going as fast as possible. Gritting his teeth, he saw Joker coming forward to stomp on his hands. 

Heaving his legs up, he braced them against the ledge he was hanging onto, and pushed up, his hamstrings screaming with the effort, but he threw himself right into Joker, dropping both of them to the ground near the trap door. One punch had the laughing psychotic groggy on the floor, and Batman was up instantly, turning to land a kick on the jaw of the first thug that came running towards him.

The others around the barn opened fire, and he ran out of the lights, hiding back in the darkness as they tried to fill the smoking hay around the edges with bullets. Batman had already climbed up one of the haymow ladders and took stock of the numbers against him. There were at least half a dozen not including Joker, and they had automatic weapons. There was no room for error.

Frowning, he came up behind the first and grabbed him from behind, choking him silently until he fell unconscious. Taking a moment, he kicked the gun away and used a zip tie to bind the thug's wrists. Then it was on to the next, but not before kicking out the cord of one of the massive barn spotlights. That was what made them start panicking and shooting at the other lights. They actually managed to put out another, trying to hit him.

Down below, one of the gang members went over to Joker, kneeling down to help him up. “You okay boss?”

Joker sat up, then laughed, pushing the thug backwards, standing up. “Always. Shouldn't you be doing something useful?”

The thug stood, looking around. “Uh, you didn't give me a gun, boss. It was my job to turn on the combine.”

“Right.” Joker replied, before grinning and kicking the man in the chest hard, sending him flying back, right down into the hole. 

The combine made a harsh, metallic noise as it struggled against flesh and bone, but only for a moment before it was spinning smoothly again. The noise of the machine drowned out the sound of the screams which were cut off when his head was removed from his body. Joker glanced down into the hole and laughed at the spray of gore on the walls of the barn's cellar.

“You served your purpose, but stick around.”

Cackling, he watched as a body of one of his unconscious thugs dropped down from above, and he began walking out of the barn. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a charmingly made home made remote control, and turned the key he had confiscated from the house that they had boarded up with the occupants inside, enjoying a laugh from him. Small bombs made of household chemicals went off around the barn, just setting it nicely ablaze as he walked off. This was an amusing evening, but it was better to not have really worked. Batman would want to see what was coming.

Back in the barn, Batman had seen Joker escape, but there were two more of his thugs left to take down. Frowning, he smelled something strongly chemical and the citrusy burn of lemon at the same time, and the barn shook, erupting in flame. He had to pull his cape around him against the flames and the chemical after burn for a moment, and then knew that he had to save the thugs before he could go after Joker, which was probably the back up plan all along.

He began collecting the few thugs up in the hayloft that he had tied up, pushing two down to the ground floor where the hay had not caught fire yet. He pointing at the last one standing and pointed down at the two on the ground floor.

“Get them out of here. Now!”

Faced with the prospect of a fiery death or dealing with the Batman, the thug dropped down out of the loft and dragged out his companions by the feet, grunting as he did so. Batman put two more over his shoulders and dropped down, grunting under the extra four hundred pounds of weight on his shoulders, and dropped them outside the barn while alerting Jim Gordon via the communicator inside his cowl for the need of fire department help. He then went back inside and found the last of the unconscious ones lying on his side in the hay.

Hoisting him over his shoulder, Batman dragged him outside, leaving them in a pile in the night air as he watched the barn go up in flames. Getting a decent breath after the smoky barn, he disappeared into the trees again, listening hard for the sound of sirens. This far out of the city, it would take a minute or two longer for them to get there. As soon as he knew that there would help on the way, he ran out in the direction that Joker went.

There were loafer prints on the ground, but past his own car he saw the tracks of something with two wheels driving away from the farm, the tracks fresh. Once they got onto the highway, he knew that he would lose them. Muttering a curse quietly, Batman went back up to the farm proper, hearing the fire trucks approaching as well as police cars. He would have a talk with Gordon before he left.


	20. More Questions Than Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

“Get someone down there to turn off that damn thing!” Gordon ordered.

He resisted the urge to remove his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose, the sound of the combine harvester down below whirring away not helping his headache get any better. He had gotten an address and a need for emergency vehicles from Batman, but there was no way he had been prepared for the bodies inside the farmhouse or the mess down in the cellar beneath the barn. 

There was no sign of Batman or Joker, but he had seen the deep treads the car made on the way in and knew that there would have been two sets of tire tracks if he had already left. The car and the Batman was somewhere on the farm property. It would probably be too much to hope that he had already caught Joker. 

They had found the bound but safe henchmen lying in a pile outside, just thankful to be sucking in clean air and not burning like the barn had been. The fire department had managed to put the fire out before it got really out of hand, but now he and some others had been going inside. Gordon had tried Avery's cell phone, but there was no answer from it. He would fill her in the next day. He still hesitated to bring her in on anything, even if it was her case. She was still recovering.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood and not even all of that hid the scent of the house when they had pried the boards off the front door and opened it to find three corpses. As the thugs were put into the back of police cruisers, Jim saw a familiar figure off in the trees, hidden in the shadows except for his head, obviously waiting to be noticed. Pushing a hand through his graying hair, he walked towards the spindly orchard trees.

“Any idea what they were up to here?”

The Batman countered with a question of his own, “What did the gang members say?”

“Just that they were only in charge of taking care of the pumpkins and filling bowls with something. None of them could tell me what the chemicals were, where the load of pumpkins Joker took went, or where he might be now.”

“I'm going to test one of the bowls.” Batman replied. “I'll let you know what I find out.”

“I appreciate that. Dr. Reinhart returned to work today thanks to you.”

He was silent, nodding slightly. Jim crossed his arms, wishing the trees would make the farm smell better than it currently did, but it seemed like that was not going to happen. He did take his glasses off now and pinched at the pressure at the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath without breathing in through his nose. When Jim returned his glasses he knew he would be alone. All it took was a turn of the head and he could disappear.

Jim walked back through the farm and had one of his people carefully catalog one of the bowls as well, for the forensics team to work though, though chances were they would takes weeks, even months to come back with any information and Batman would have his in a couple of days. Hopefully that would be soon enough to figure out what the hell Joker was doing. 

Body bags came out of the house, carried by the EMTs that looked a little green as they carried the black bags out. He felt his throat tighten a little bit. He wished it was because of the smell in the air. But no matter how thick a skin he tried to grow, the sense of failure was still there when he saw more killed by the pointless violence that he only understood as insanity. James Gordon sighed and walked back towards a group of people who were milling around, waiting for orders.

If nothing else, he could still guide the living.

**********************************************************************

Weary did not cover how he felt as he walked up the steps to the manor house. He'd showered down in the bathroom built into the cave and slipped on slacks and a cashmere sweater Alfred had left for him instead of pajamas, having assumed that he would have been back sooner. Avery was probably ticked off, he would have to send something the next day, or better, walk it in himself with an apology. When had she become so important to him?

At first Bruce could admit he had been trying to get her to go out with him to keep up with his image. The playboy had to be irresistible and having someone as lovely as Avery call him a putz to his face and ignore him would have been out of character. But when she had given in, he had felt more than triumph. It was something else, especially when he realized she saw right through the facade he put up and wanted to know if there was more to him than money and nice hair. 

They had been dating for almost a month, pretty much the entire time she had been in Gotham. Once or twice they had talked about how she was going back to Metropolis when her six month lease was up. It had not seemed like such a big deal at the time, but he was getting used to smart conversation and a gentle hand that took his, not insisting on anything more. He had been the one to initiate the first real kiss, not the teasing one at her apartment on the night of the conservatory fiasco. She had never invited him to stay the night like other women did, never tried to spark some kind of passion in him forcefully. She was so independent and so ladylike at the same time.

He knew she was more than a fling when he pulled her from the watery cage in Purge's lair a couple of weeks ago. Even as the Batman, he had been on the verge of panic when she had failed to breathe with rescue breathing. Letting someone else he cared about die because he could not act would haunt him for the rest of his life, much like the death of his parents. He had nearly clutched her to him when she started breathing again that night. It was only a month into the relationship, but maybe he would see if he could get her a permanent position in Gotham City with the police department.

Alfred was waiting for him as he came out of the cave, putting the rows of shelves back in place, not disturbing the silver serving pieces sitting there, and coming out of the door that was always locked to anyone whose fingerprints did not read correctly in the silent scanner in the antique-looking brass door knob. He was waiting with a glass of orange juice on a silver salver.

"Welcome home sir."

"Thank you, Alfred. When did Avery leave?"

"She hasn't, sir. Dr. Avery is still in the den, or she was the last time I checked."

Bruce felt his heart sit a little lighter in his chest as he realized she was still there, probably fuming though. He sucked down the juice and set the glass back on the salver. "And arrangements for the party?"

"Everything is ready. The mask you ordered was recalled, but the company replaced it." Alfred replied with a nod, walking with him towards the den. 

"Does Avery have a costume? We could find something for her."

Alfred nodded, "Dr. Avery and I discussed it this evening. She will come here after work with her costume and get ready in one of the spare rooms."

"Then you should go to bed. I'll take care of Avery."

"If you insist." Alfred said, punctuating it with a yawn. He would have refused a few years ago, but the odd hours that Bruce tended to keep took their toll on the butler too.

Bruce sent him on his way and walked to the den, the fire still burning, warming the room and making it smell more inviting than the farm had been. Avery was on the couch, her feet up, heels abandoned on the thick rug. She looked beautiful, firelight dancing across the smooth skin of her face, the bruises having faded from her neck and her back. She had a case file open and settled on her chest, but she was not looking at it, her head tipped back on a pillow that Alfred had obviously put behind the smooth twist of auburn hair, her eyes closed.

He came forward and gently eased the file from her hand, glancing at the name on it, a name that made him frown slightly as he saw that the file was on the Joker. He closed it, only to have fingers touch his hand. If the file had been about anyone else, he would have jumped the second she moved.

"Don't frown at me. I had to do something while I was waiting." Avery said, her voice thick with sleep.

Bruce managed a smile, "Sorry for being so late."

There was a smile on her lips, not the glare he was accustomed to getting with women who thought their time was worth more than the world. Just accepting understanding from the woman on the couch. He wondered if she were really that good of a person, or slightly insane. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Did your meeting go well?"

"Didn't get everything accomplished, but we moved some farming assets around." Bruce replied. "It's late. Do you want me to make you some coffee, or call you a cab?"

Avery turned onto her side, touching his cheek with the flush of stubble on it with her gentle fingers. "I don't have to go."

It took him a moment to realize what she was actually proposing. She actually looked shy sitting there with the curves of her figure outlined by the clingy, modest dress, a curl hanging by her cheek. Bruce smiled a little and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her mouth in acceptance. Taking her hand, he helped her stand and guided her out of the den, up the steps to the master bedroom. He left the lights off as he carefully removed the pins that kept her hair in place, the silky locks falling over his hands and wrapping around his fingers. 

Avery pressed her body against his own in a way she never had before, and he suddenly discovered a fount of passion within this independent, spirited woman that had been settled just below the surface of someone who had been trying to be considerate of him in a way very few women ever were. He found himself more than responding as they collapsed onto the bed in a heap of exploring hands and fiery kisses that lasted long into the night.


	21. Separate Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Avery woke up still curled up against the hard muscles of Bruce's torso. She reached up with one hand to rub her eyes, shaking back the long sleeve of one of his expensive button down shirts, which he had insisted she slip on when she went to pick up her dress when they had finished. She felt like she was drowning in it, but he had been so cute and careful as he rolled the sleeves back so that her hands came out the sleeves. Sunlight was streaming just past the room-darkening blinds and she could see the lines of his chest muscles, swallowing as she saw the bruises on his flesh. He said he played sports, but this was a little extreme.

He had never invited her to see him play, if he were on a team, and he almost had to be with bruises like this. He also probably was not very good at whatever he played, considering how battered he looked. She saw a heavy bruise on his shoulder and remembered a moment the previous evening when he had moved her hand from there so carefully, and now she understood why. He had to be really, really bad at whatever he played.

Her fingers trailed along a scar on his upper chest, and Bruce stirred, opening his eyes and smiling down at her. "Good morning."

"Good morning." She replied, feeling just a little blush creeping into her cheeks. She could not decide if she felt a little embarrassed because she had been caught looking at him, or because she had slept with him the previous evening. Not that they had rushed things. They had been seeing each other for nearly a month.

Leaning over him, she felt his hands slide down her sides to her hips, and beneath the shirt, finding the line where her legs met her torso. She was more insistent at looking at the clock next to him. It was a little after seven in the morning. Leaning back, Avery dropped a kiss on his mouth and climbed out the other side of the bed, only noticing the weight of the necklace still around her throat as she leaned over to pick up her panties from the floor.

"Don't you want some breakfast? Alfred makes an excellent Eggs Benedict." Bruce asked, still lying in bed with the sheets up to his waist.

"I appreciate it, but I need to get going. I want to go home and change my clothes before I go to work. Some of us actually have to be at the office before noon." She teased, stepping into her panties and stripping away his shirt before shimmying into her dress again. 

Avery walked over to the bed, straightening her hair with her fingers, though she planned on showering at home before heading to the precinct. "Go back to sleep. I'll call you later."

Bruce smiled, "My hard working woman. Will I see you tonight?"

"I have work to do." Avery said, shaking her head. She kissed his cheek, "But I'll see you tomorrow night at your Halloween party."

Bruce grinned at her, catching her hand and kissing the top of it gently. "Thank you."

She felt her cheeks burn a little again, "You're welcome?"

He laughed and squeezed her hand before releasing her. Avery had no clue that the second he heard her padding down the steps, he was already out of bed, slipping on a pair of boxer briefs before tipping forward to do the hundreds of push ups that he did every morning. When she got downstairs, she found her things already neatly picked up and put back in her attache case, as well as her cell phone, which had been on silent, waiting with a couple of messages. She stepped into her shoes and was startled by Alfred coming in, a tray in his hand with a travel mug of coffee and a toasted sandwich wrapped in a napkin, eggs, cheese and bacon peeking out of the end of it, her coat on his arm.

"I thought you would care for some breakfast before you left, Dr. Avery."

She smiled and leaned up, kissing his cheek as she took the sandwich. "Thank you, that was so sweet of you Alfred. Whatever he pays you, it isn't enough."

Alfred returned the smile, "You have no idea, Dr. Avery. Will we see you this evening?"

"I'm afraid not, I need to catch up on some work. But I'll be here for the party, like we talked about. Try to keep him out of trouble, okay?"

"Easier said than done. Have a good day at work, Dr. Avery."

She smiled as he opened the front door for her and Avery took the cup of coffee, putting her things in the car as she took a bite of the sandwich, finding he had used hollandaise sauce as a condiment on it. Moaning softly as she enjoyed the sandwich, she took off, heading down the long drive while she listened to her voicemail. Jim Gordon's voice made her lose her appetite as he told her concisely what had happened last night. Frowning, she hit the gas a little harder, to get back to the city, to get her stuff out of the hotel. Another one of the messages was that her apartment was fixed and ready to go.

****************************************************************************************** 

After Avery left, Bruce came downstairs, wet from his shower, sweat pants loose around his hips under his black t-shirt. Alfred had already set out breakfast on the small table in the kitchen where he preferred to eat when he was not trying to impress someone. The memories of the previous evening with Avery were enough to push out the ones of finding the bodies in the farm house, at least for a little while. He sat down to eat while Alfred came in, putting a newspaper on the table before going to the fridge and setting out some eggs, getting out other ingredients as he began cooking for the next day.

"Can I take this evening to mean that you'll be seeing more of Dr. Avery in the future?" The butler asked.

"I hope so, she said she was coming tomorrow night." Bruce replied, swallowing half the glass of orange juice in front of his plate in one swallow.

"She's a lovely young lady. I do hope this isn't another one of your flings, Master Bruce."

Bruce stopped, looking at his plate. "It's not. As much as I wanted it to be, it's not. She's smart and brave and ladylike, which is rare."

"She's leaving in five months. Does that have anything to do with your particular willingness to let her into your life?"

He had to frown, knowing that Alfred had hit on a point that was more than just a little true. It was slightly painful. It was atonement for even allowing her into his life beyond the careless whispers of bar chatter and cocktail party banter. It was the Batman punishing him by giving him another girl who would be one of the ones who got away, not because she was a bad person or in love with someone else, but because she belonged somewhere else. And if she felt anything for him, which Bruce suspected she did, she would suffer too, and that would be on his conscience. He pushed scrambled eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"You could tell her the truth." Alfred ventured.

Bruce's eyes rose to his butler. "Have you lost your mind?"

"She did kiss my cheek. I might be slightly unsettled because of that."

"Try not to steal my girlfriend." Bruce said, shaking his head as he got up, pushing a piece of toast into his mouth as he went for the door to the silver closet and the cave behind the shelves. He had a bowl to run some tests on. While all the bowls were empty, there would be be some kind of residue on the bottom of it. If he was going to have answers for Gordon that evening and some idea of what Joker was planning, he had to get the base chemicals down.

The cave was kind of chilly, but he would fix that as he retrieved the bowl from before and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. He washed the bottom of the bowl with a mixture of chemicals that he had created just for this kind of use, and took that chemical rinse and put it in a centrifuge. Removing the gloves, he jumped up and caught a suspended bar of metal while the equipment whirled on one of the lab tables. He began doing pull ups as he listened to it go, knowing it had a half hour to do what it needed to do. 

Bruce was sweating and his arms were starting to get tired by the time the samples were ready to go. He let go of the bar and put on another pair of gloves, catching his breath as he pulled out the test tubes and put several samples on slides and settled cover slips into place, putting them into the electron microscope and letting the computer do its work. As it ran through the separate chemicals involved, he went to another bar and pulled himself up onto it, then hooked his knees over the bar, doing sit ups so his nose nearly touched his knees each time he pulled himself up.

A chirp from the computer finally got him down off the second bar and he walked over to the screen, looking at the results. What he saw made less sense than why the chemicals would have been put into pumpkins. Printing out the results, he went to another part of the cave where a heavy punching bag hung. Nobody expected him at the office that day. He would be off to see Gordon as soon as the sun set.


	22. Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

There was no sound from the fire escape outside of Jim Gordon's office, but a shadow told him that he was not alone. In a moment, he heard a deep voice behind him, a rustle of fabric that only made noise because the figure behind him wanted to let Jim know that he was not alone.

“I have some results.”

Jim sat back from his computer, rubbing his eyes before he put his glasses back on. He really needed to get some bifocals the next time he could manage to get to the optometrist. Batman set down a stack of papers on his desk, but he only picked up the top one, knowing the rest were for the chemistry jockeys that would know what they were looking at. Jim frowned, looking the results page over.

“It's not his normal recipe.”

Batman was standing in a corner, and nodded slightly. “I know. It is close to the chemical composition of Joker Juice, but there are a few things off about it. And there is a mystery ingredient too. It seems like it would be highly combustible, but would render the other chemicals harmless if they were mixed together.”

“Then why would he put it in pumpkins?” Jim asked, looking the sheet over again as if it had the answers he needed.

“I did some checking, but there haven't been any reports of stolen pumpkins that he might replace them with in stores. I also did some random testing, and pumpkins set out at doors that were undecorated tested clean. If he's exchanging them for pumpkins already sitting out, I haven't found them.”

“You don't think this could be a red herring, could it?” 

Batman shook his head, “Too much work on Joker's part. He likes to throw people off, but not to this extent.”

“I'll ask Dr. Reinhart about it.” 

“There is a second copy of the papers in there.” Batman remarked. “I'll be in touch.”

“Whatever he's doing, it's going to be tonight or tomorrow.”

Batman was already half way out the window as Jim turned, attempting to get anything else out of him to put things together. “What do you think he's doing?”

The Batman stopped outside the window, his back to Gordon, “I think he's going to try and kill a lot of people and call it trick or treat. He's been lying low for a long time, and made a point of letting me find him and that farm last night. But that isn't all he's doing. He's had too much time to just be drugging pumpkins. There's something else too. But we won't know unless he wants us to.”

“You're right. I'll get in touch...” Jim watched as Batman disappeared down between the buildings, leaping as if he had no fear of heights.

Shaking his head, Gordon took the second set of the test results and left his office, walking directly for Avery Reinhart. She had been dead on when it came to making Purge do something stupid. There had not been a word since his body disappeared from the sewer tunnels. He walked to the office door, which had her name painted on it and knocked carefully.

Looking up, he got a good look at those big, thoughtful eyes, understanding why Bruce Wayne seemed to be doting on her. Even if she had not been one of the smartest people on his payroll, she was very pretty. Avery beckoned him inside, her desk full of papers and file folders, several notes written on the white board on her wall. She looked professional and stylish in a dark purple blouse and black pants, a set of heels that made her a little taller and all her hair pulled into a Gordian knot. 

“What's going on?” She asked as he came in and sat down.

“We have some results from a special examination of those bowls from out on that farm.”

Avery got up and shut her office door, taking the papers from him, looking them over carefully. “Did he say what was going on?”

“He doesn't know. He just thinks that Joker is going to hit tonight or tomorrow as some kind of Halloween prank.”

She nodded a little. “Maybe even after midnight tomorrow night. November first is the Day of the Dead in some cultures. If he's looking to kill people, it could coincide with that too.”

“He said that Joker was probably going to try and kill a lot of people.”

“Huh...” Avery turned one of the pages. “It's been a while since high school chemistry, but this looks like a highly explosive chemical. From what I remember, white organic peroxide is highly explosive and unstable.”

“But why in pumpkins?”

“I wish I had more time to think about that.” She said, shaking her head. “The information on Joker is pretty scarce. The doctors at Arkham tried to analyze him and got exactly nothing. And each of his crimes has a different pattern to it, different points to make. And if we're talking about chaos here, it could go in any direction.”

“Where are you going to be tonight and tomorrow?” Jim asked.

“Tonight I'm just going home. The construction workers finished the apartment. Tomorrow I'll be at Wayne Manor for that Halloween party he's having. I'll have my phone on.”

Jim nodded, “If you think of anything or figure anything out, call me. Any time. I'm going to have double the staff here tomorrow night.”

Avery sat back down at her desk, sticking the top sheet of the analysis on her cork board where she had some other things stuck including Joker's mug shot. “Be careful if you get any calls tomorrow night from anonymous tipsters, Jim. I could see that blowing up in our faces.”

Gordon got up and walked to the door. “You be careful too. We don't know where Killer Croc is still.”

A hand went to her slender throat, and he could far too easily imagine it with the bruises that it had on it previously. She smiled at him though.

“Don't worry about it. I'm probably too skinny for his tastes anyway.” 

Jim left her with his warning and slipped out of her office. He had numerous things to think about, possibilities that were endless and the more insane they were, the more probable they were. He sent his secretary down to the lab on the lower levels with the information from Batman and sat back down in his office chair, sighing quietly. The hell of waiting was nearly as bad as the aftermath of what was inevitably coming.

***********************************************************************************

It was almost ten o'clock at night. She needed to go home and get some sleep. Maybe even some dinner. She had skipped lunch and had not eaten since the breakfast that Alfred had made her early that morning. Avery sighed and turned off her computer, then got up and slipped her coat on. Tomorrow she had calls to make, and a visit to the psychiatrist that had tried to treat Joker right when he got to Arkham. The psychiatrist had left the asylum shortly afterward and now was the doctor on call for the night shift for a fancy mental hospital, and agreed to talk to Avery in person.

Picking up her bag, she buttoned her coat and turned off her office light, heading out into the office. Waving goodbye to several people, she noticed that Jim Gordon had already gone home for the night too. Then again, he had been in her office just before eight, and she was bad about looking at the time when she was in the office. Tucking her coat a little closer she stepped out into the October night, the chilly air nipping at her nose and ears. 

Reaching into her pocket as she walked home, she checked her phone for messages. There was one from Bruce, which made her smile, and blush a little from the slightly dirty innuendo that he left for her. Then there was one from the reporter from the Daily Planet, Lois Lane, asking for information. Knowing exactly what her boss would say about that, Avery just erased the message. She never had been good at talking to the press. 

Walking down the street, she was unaware of the figure following her. In fact, she had been unaware of the figure that followed her since she had left the hospital. But he continued to follow her, his finger pressing down on occasion on the digital camera, taking photographs of nobody but the criminologist.


	23. Another Night, Another Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

The night had proven to be quiet. Apparently Avery had called, as she promised, and Alfred passed the message along that he was not allowed to leave lascivious messages on her voice mail if she was going to listen to them in public. The thought of her blushing in the middle of the street made Batman's lips turn up in the slightest way. He had seen no signs of Joker or his men, nobody wearing the clown paint that would give them away. He resisted the urge to go home and get some rest, a night with Avery having been hard on him in a very different way.

Instead, Batman turned and dropped down into the car, heading south towards the center of the city. He left the car in an alley a couple blocks away from where he was headed, and used his grappling gun to get to the rooftops. A few leaps across buildings, nothing he was not used to, and he was on the building across the street from the antiques store where Avery's apartment was located. He had gotten word that day that she had taken her things and left the hotel, and indeed her window and door had been repaired. He had been more comfortable with her in the hotel, but she was an independent woman.

There was a light on in her apartment, but not in the bedroom window. The light was coming from the living room. He checked the internal clock of his cowl and saw that it was just a little before midnight. If she had stayed at work late, it was possible that she had not been to bed yet. He turned to leave when he spotted another figure on the rooftops, one on the roof to the right of him, pointing a camera and a telescope lens at the window he had just been looking at. 

Slipping away from the edge slowly, he kept an eye on the photographer taking photos of Avery, or at least of her home, though Batman was certain that she was inside. He leapt from the building he was on to the one to the right, slowly approaching the photo taker from behind. He was more interested in snapping pictures of Avery as she fell asleep on her couch, reading files, than noticing that Batman was coming up behind him. 

A hand grabbed the camera, his other hand turning him around so he could deliver a kick right to the photographer's solar plexus, knocking him over and forcing the wind from his lungs. Stomping down on him so that his head and arms were the only things flailing over the edge of the building, Batman held him in place as he destroyed the telescope lens by throwing it to the roof, looking at the camera. It only took him a minute to sift through the photographs.

There was nothing on the memory card but photos of Avery. Avery in the hospital, Avery leaving the hospital, Avery going to work, Avery at the hotel, Avery out with Bruce. Sometimes there were leaves in the way as if the photos had been taken from trees or bushes, but all were candid photographs of the young woman asleep on her couch in the apartment across the street. He growled and pulled out the memory card, throwing the camera down so that it broke as well.

Tucking the memory card away, he leaned down and picked up the scared looking thug who was indeed painted with the Joker's colors, though it was faded, as if he had been outside for several days. He shook him once before speaking quietly, which only made the thug tremble harder.

"Why are you following Dr. Reinhart?"

"He...he told me to!"

"He who? Joker?"

The thug nodded, "I don't know anything!"

Batman took a step forward, letting the man dangle over the edge. "Why?"

"I don't know! I swear! He just told me to follow her around!"

"That's all? Not supposed to break in?"

The thug shrieked, Batman shaking him over the empty air. "I swear to God man! Take pictures and give you the memory card if you showed up!"

"Has he seen these?"

"Looks at them every night when I take the camera back! But he never erases 'em!"

Growling slightly at the thought of Joker going through photos of Avery, of cackling over whatever he had planned, Batman turned and dragged the thug with him as he dropped down to the street, using his cape to slow their fall. He pulled the frightened thug back into the shadows and waited in the alley while looking for one of the police cruisers that were patrolling the city center area. It was not long before one stopped, and he sent the thug stumbling forward to thump into the side of the car, hands tethered behind his back with zip ties.

Batman used the grappling gun again to get back onto the top of the building he had just jumped from, and swung across to the building the antiques store and the apartment was in. He slipped down onto the fire escape, and made a little noise for once as he slipped into her bedroom and removed the light bulb from the overhead light fixture. He heard her stir on the couch out in the living room and slipped back to a corner of the room, waiting quietly.

********************************************************************

Avery woke up with the file she had been reading nearly on the floor. She rubbed her forehead, and closed the file, glancing at her watch. She had made a sandwich when she got home and pulled on her pajamas, preferring to sit in the pale blue yoga pants and the matching tank top with Hello Kitty on the chest than anything else while she read files, as gruesome as they were. It was almost midnight, she should go to bed and get some sleep. The next evening would be a long one.

Getting up, she turned off the light in the living room after checking to make sure the new deadbolt on the front door was latched, and walked into the bedroom. Avery froze as she hit the light switch and nothing happened, the table lamp not in sync with the overhead light yet, slowly backing out of the room before she heard the gritty, deep voice that made her shiver with relief.

"Table light only."

Feeling her way in the darkness, she turned on the light near the bed, and it illuminated the darkness of the room just enough that she could make out the shape of his broad shoulders and the edge of his cloak. She sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap so that he would not see how they were shaking.

“Don't do that. I'm kind of jumpy right now.”

“You should be.” He said quietly. “But you did the right thing, backing out of the room when the light wouldn't go on.”

Avery turned her head slightly so she could see him over her shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“You're in danger.”

“Again?”

“It's not your fault this time.” Batman said, his voice not betraying anything other than factual information. “Joker's been watching you.”

“What?” Avery got up off the bed, wrapping her arms around her body, mostly to cover Hello Kitty but partially because it was a disturbing thought. She had just finished reading what happened in his most recent escape from Arkham. “Why?”

“He might just be trying to provoke me. But I found one of his men taking photographs of you this evening. He also knows that I was able to save your life twice when you were threatened by Purge and Killer Croc. He takes pleasure in harming the people that willingly work with me.”

Avery put a couple of fingers to her lips as she began pacing in the room. “If he wants to hurt me in time for whatever he's planning, he'll have to do it tomorrow night.”

The idea of being at the mercy of a being that had no problems carving up the people who were trying to help him made her shiver a little, but it was also too good of a chance to pass up. If he wanted her, she could not keep herself hidden away with a chance to get him back into Arkham. Swallowing back the fear that wanted to pop up, she nodded, looking back at the dark corner where the Batman stood.

“Let him come. Draw him out if you think it'll get him out in the open. Maybe if he wants to kill me he'll do it before he can put into action any plan that he's thinking of.”

She did not expect the Batman to walk forward suddenly, taking her arms as he looked down at her, eye rimmed in black so that it was impossible to tell what color his eyes were in that mask, no matter how familiar they seemed. His hands squeezed her upper arms, not painfully but just enough to make sure she was paying very careful attention. Pulled so close to him, smelling of sweat and metal and plastic, not to mention that intensity in his eyes, she could see why it would be easy to get distracted.

Avery found it difficult to breathe as he hovered over her, feeling as if he were taking up most of the room even without her back against a wall. For a crazy moment, she hoped he would push her back against the wall and look down at her with those burning eyes, and tell her that he had nearly broken her ribs bringing her back from the brink of death because it was more than just what he did. Her cheeks flushed as the thoughts, unfaithful to Bruce, filled her head for just a moment.

His hands tightened again, and she looked up at him and shook her head. “Do it. Let him come for me.”

“Do you have any idea what you're saying?” He asked, his voice seething with something that could have only been the suffering sincerity that came from seeing endless lives ended and altered by one insane man. “If he comes for you, he'll do more than kill you. Torture, mutilation, depravity, none of these words mean anything unless you've seen him in action. Unless you've seen the corpses. And he won't just try to shoot you, Avery. He'll break your soul first.”

She shuddered, swallowing painfully, feeling her eyes get glossy and wet at the thought of being at the receiving end of anything that she had read about in the files. The lucky ones just died from the chemical poison he called Joker Juice. The rest read like a demon's list of accomplishments. But someone had to do something, or a lot of people were going to die.

“Let him come for me.” Avery repeated, though her voice was barely above a whisper. “If it will stop him, if it will save lives...I can't just hide away. I won't.”

His fingers dug into her flesh, not hard enough to bruise, but obviously hard enough to let her know that he was thinking it over. Finally, he let her go and put something in her hand. She was familiar with the cool, sleek form of a transmitter, one like the one she had lost drowning in the rain overflow basin, with the single button and the speaker transmitter.

“You know what to do.” He said quietly.

“The second anything happens.” She promised. “You'll know.”

Batman was already moving to her window, newly replaced, and opened it to step out onto the fire escape. His head turned back slightly. “Lock this.”

She nodded and watched as he disappeared up, onto the top of the building, as if he could fly. Biting her lower lip, she locked the window and screwed the light bulb back into the ceiling fixture. Sitting down on the bed, she left the light on before she tried to get any sleep, the transmitter clenched in her hand when she finally stopped jumping at shadows and fell asleep.


	24. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

“Dr. Avery, it isn't my place to question your timing, but guests will be arriving soon.”

Avery rushed into the front doors of Wayne Manor, dress bag and another bag over her arm, having tossed her keys at one of the valets standing outside. She smiled at Alfred and dropped a kiss on his cheek as she headed to the steps, pulling off her shoes as she did so to make the climb a little easier. 

“I know, I know. I'm going to run upstairs, I'll be down as soon as I'm ready.” She replied, taking the steps two at a time.

As she got up to the second level, she realized she had not asked Alfred which room she could use. Avery had been late for work that morning, sleeping in after being haunted by the dreams that Batman's words has put in her head. She had worked hard at finding any angle that Joker might have been using for some kind of horrible genocidal scheme, but she had been unable to do anything but talk to the doctor who had tried to cure him once.

Then she realized she was late for Bruce's Halloween party about half an hour before it was supposed to begin, and noticed that her cell phone had been on silent, thus missing a couple of Bruce's calls. Rushing, she managed to arrive before any of the guests, everyone wanting to be fashionably late to the masquerade of the season, but she still had to get dressed. Looking around, she tried to catch some sign of Alfred below, but saw nothing but extra help that had been hired for the evening.

“Lost, Dr. Reinhart?”

Laughing softly, she turned to see Bruce straightening the cuffs of his tuxedo. She took a moment to look him over, to appreciate the fact that he was an extremely good looking man. His tuxedo, new and well tailored, was more becoming than it should have been on any man. It streamlined and accentuated his form, the wide shoulders and the strong arms that she remembered well enough.

His dark hair was slicked back as usual, though she remembered what it looked like mussed, a few pieces in front of his eyes early in the morning when he was still asleep. He wore a simple black and white domino mask, held in place with a dark string that she could barely see behind his ears, but it was mysterious and becoming. She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“I don't know which room would be best to use to change.”

“Well Mr. Wayne isn't using his room at the moment, I'm sure he wouldn't mind, seeing as he was on time for this evening.” Bruce said, teasing her gently.

“An excellent idea. And it's not my fault. Work is...engrossing.”

He stepped forward, leaning down and kissing her gently. “Payment for the information.”

Avery had to laugh. “I won't tell my boyfriend if you won't.”

She moved past him and headed to the master bedroom, giving him a little wave before she shut the door to get herself ready. Pleased that he had managed to have a moment with her while masked, Bruce headed downstairs to start welcoming guests. He had been disturbed by her resolve and bravery the previous evening. It would have been so easy to tear off his cowl and tell her why he wanted her to hide so much, but if Joker showed up tonight, there would be no holds barred.

The doorbell rang, and he took his glass of ginger ale, looking as if it were champagne, from Alfred, and began welcoming people and inviting them to come in, eat his food, drink his booze, and dance to the music if they felt the need. The guests came in a steady stream, and before he knew it, forty five minutes had passed since he had seen Avery. 

He was just about to go upstairs and make sure everything was okay when he saw her coming down the steps, a vision in platinum and frosty purple. She was wearing a ball gown with a skirt of platinum gossamer, overlaid with purple satin that rose to a tight bodice all encrusted with crystals embroidered into the fabric. Gossamer wrapped around her shoulders, hiding the top of loose purple satin sleeves that were wide around her wrists.

Her long hair was down, long curls held in place with a tiara of flowers and fronds of crystal, and delicately painted wings on her back. He smiled at the whimsy of the gown, and how she looked lovely instead of silly in it. She had a mask on a long, ribbon covered stick in her hand as she walked down the steps and took his waiting hand.

“I didn't think I was escorting a princess tonight.” He whispered quietly. “You look amazing.”

She smiled, which made the glitter on her face and her considerable decolletage flash in the light of the room. “That's fairy princess. Thank you. I like your mask.”

“Like everyone else, I got one of those ones from the Karnival Mask Company. Possibly because they're the only place in town with something that doesn't look like Silly Putty wrapped over a fake nose.” Bruce said, coaxing a laugh from her.

He returned her smile, and picked up another glass from Alfred, nearly returning it as one of ginger ale before Alfred nodded to him that it was the right one. Avery took it and sipped it, smiling.

“I don't like to drink with a bunch of people around either. So I asked Alfred to pour me what you were having too.”

“Noticed, hmm?”

“I'm pretty sure it's part of my job to be observant. I thought you said this was supposed to be a Halloween masquerade. From here it looks like it's a wear as tight a dress as possible party.” She said, looking at the guests in their costumes.

Bruce had to laugh at the observation, noting that it was true. While most of the men were in tuxedos and masks of some kind, the women had squeezed themselves into gowns tight enough to show off whether they were wearing panties or not, and if they were, what style the lingerie was. Many wore animal ears and domino masks, but a few had put in as much effort as Avery had. He admitted she looked as if she had stepped out of some moonlit garden.

Avery lifted the heavy skirt with its petticoats beneath it, glad it had made such an impression on Bruce. She had also gotten an approving glance from Alfred, and it was important to her that he like her as well. He was such an important part of Bruce's life. Sipping her ginger ale, she left Bruce's side for a moment and went to the table where a miraculous spread of hors d'oeuvers were waiting. She hovered over a bowl of strawberries that had been cleaned and waited to be dipped in an array of different toppings, some sweet and a few actually savory.

Putting a few on a small plate, she set down her mask as she watched a woman dressed in slinky black sequins punctuated with a jaunty witch's hat with tall feathers and a veil over her pixie hair cut and a black domino mask chatted with a man who looked like a teddy bear without ears who was wearing a pair of odd glasses with spiral shapes instead of clear lenses.

“Apparently all the masks the Karnival Mask Company had sold in the past couple of months had to be returned, but they replaced them all. Mine too.” The woman said, shrugging as she drained half her glass of champagne. “It just kind of had a weird smell. But I couldn't tell what was wrong with the last one either.”

Avery finished her strawberries, listing to the idle conversation, the talk about the masks sticking with her for some reason, though she could not figure out why. She took another glass of ginger ale from Alfred, and smiled as she heard laughter starting on one end of the room. The laughter became a little hysterical, and similar laughter rose from the other side of the room. 

The haze of the lights in the warm room gave everything an odd glow, but somehow she thought she could see some kind of green mist rising in the air in one corner of the room, then another. The laughter was rising from several parts of the room now, and she searched for Bruce, looking for him in a sea of tuxedos. It was deafening, that maniacal laughter, as she found him standing near the steps talking to a couple of other people. 

She put one of her long sleeves to her mouth as she saw the odd green gas rising in a cloud over even that little group and she suddenly realized where they must have been coming from. Avery pushed people out of her way as she ran to Bruce, seeing his shoulders shaking from behind as green smoke wisped from the mask on his face. 

Feeling the effects of the gas herself, despite the sleeve over her mouth, she stifled the laughter, reaching out and grabbing the mask from his face. It began peeling away, and she saw with horrified eyes that it had left chemical burns on the skin around his eyes. Using both hands, she jerked the mask from his face and tossed it away, covering his mouth with one of the long sleeves of her gown.

People were screaming with laughter now, the room filling with the Joker Juice from all the masks that had been replaced by the Karnival Mask Company, the people not wearing masks inhaling it as well. Bruce grabbed her free hand and pushed it to her mouth even as he shook with laughter, and tried to guide her through the room with a hand on her arm. Even as she began giggling, panic welled up inside her, knowing that even if they got outside they would still be full of the poison, unable to do anything but laugh as they died.

A second hand clamped down on her arm, and she saw Alfred standing to her other side, inexplicably with a gas mask covering his nose. He pulled the two of them towards a door that she had never seen opened in Bruce's house, that had been locked the one time she had tried it out of curiosity. Helping her lean Bruce against the wall, where she had to lean in a moment too because her diaphragm hurt so badly from laughing, he took a moment to open the door before glancing at Bruce.

“It's the only way now, Master Bruce.”

He opened the door to a silver closet, but then pushed the shelves aside and hurried the two of them in as the rest of the guests and wait staff at Wayne Manor died in heaps in a grove of green gas.


	25. Secrets Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Beyond the shelves of silver, a wide set of steps started out as a little hallway built right into the house, then turned into stone as they dipped lower, the lights coming on as the motion set them off. Bruce was laughing with a hysterical tinge to it as they stumbled down the steps together, but somehow he managed to keep her from falling from the edge as she bent over laughing. 

The stone steps seemed to be carved right out of the rock of the place where they were going, an odd panic room if she had ever seen one, though it made her laugh harder to think of Bruce having a panic room. It was when the steps opened up to the cave that she finally lost it, her shock at seeing the equipment, the car, the proof that Bruce was something other than he seemed, which caused her to fall onto the steps, holding her sides as her ribs felt like they were going to burst from inside her body.

Bruce fell with her, pillowed on the mass of her costume's skirt, his skin changing color from the painful red of unchecked laughter, getting pale and ghostly, the veins of his flesh visible and green. Alfred had run down into the cave the moment the two of them were unable to go any further, and returned now, two vials and an inoculation gun in his hand. He pushed one of the vials into place and pressed it against Bruce's neck, the hiss of air pushing the chemicals into his system.

Avery could feel her lungs tightening, her own flesh discoloring though she had not been in as close contact with the poison as Bruce had been. Alfred pressed the second vial into the inoculation gun and pressed it against her upper arm, the needle slender enough that it barely hurt, not that she could feel anything but the desperate need to express something aside from laughter, painfully aware of what everyone upstairs had to be going through as they realized they were dying.

As the antidote rushed through their systems, the urge to laugh slowly faded, leaving her feeling exhausted and worn, like she had been stretched beyond her limits then snapped back into some shape that did not fit quite right. Bruce had stopped laughing as well, his face fading back to a normal flesh tone, slightly ashen and red around his eyes where the chemicals had burned into his skin.

Minutes passed, and she finally tore her eyes away from him to look around. And it finally struck her completely what had just been revealed to her to save her life. Afraid she would say something stupid or harsh, she pressed her hand to her mouth, concentrating on breathing steadily and not falling into another fit of giggles. Avery was less than surprised as she felt her eyes brim over suddenly with tears, shock settling in while Alfred helped Bruce to his feet.

Bruce turned back to her, and reached down, gently prying her hands from her mouth, pulling her up to her feet and guiding her down the steps, his hands still shaking slightly as he deposited her into a chair and sat down across from her, waiting while Alfred removed his gas mask and brought the both of them a glass of cool water. Her hands shook as she downed the water, finally managing to speak.

“It's...not possible.”

“I'm Batman.” He said quietly. “It is possible.”

“...I just thought you sucked at sports.”

“What?”

She looked up at him, nodding at his chest. “The bruises. I just thought you were really bad at what you played.”

If it were possible, a smile cracked his serious facade, but he shook his head. “I couldn't tell you.”

Avery looked around and realized he was right. There was no point in asking him why he had not been honest with her, because revealing it to someone untrustworthy would have been his demise. She just let it sink in, how he had to be two people with everyone, even with her. The night in her apartment before and his concern for her as she offered herself up as a sacrifice to the plan to trap Joker. But she had to ask him the question that pervaded her mind, she could not let it go even as she thought about how he had saved her life numerous times.

“...Was this all to keep tabs on me? I mean...I slept with you.”

Bruce looked up at her, meeting her eyes, “No. Don't think that. I wouldn't use you like that, Avery.”

The cave was oddly silent, the sound of running water just quiet white noise in the background. She looked at the steps over her shoulder, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “They're all dead, aren't they?”

He nodded, glancing up as Alfred reappeared, this time with some kind of salve and other first aid items, beginning to tend to the chemical burns around Bruce's eyes. 

“And the mansion is off limits until we can get that stuff out of there. You probably saved my life though. If you hadn't pulled that mask off, I would have gotten the full dose immediately. Alfred wouldn't have had time to get us the antidote if you hadn't acted.”

Alfred finished with Bruce's face and turned to Avery, taking her hands and looking them over. It was for the first time then that she noticed that the fingers of her left hand ached. The flesh was red with chemical burns, from the tips to the first knuckle, and he began cleaning them, bandaging the individual fingers. Bruce took one of the cotton swabs Alfred had used and carried it over to one of the large microscopes set up on the other side of the room, dousing it in a liquid solution before putting it under the lens.

As he examined the residue on the cotton swab he removed his jacket and bow tie, discarding the tie, but holding onto the jacket. Alfred left her hand in her lap with a gentle squeeze, a grandfatherly gesture that helped her stiffen up, to feel less like a faded flower and remember that she was a member of the police department, and she had work to do too. Bruce returned and dropped his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders, sitting down as he removed his shoes.

“The Joker Juice was spread on the inside of the masks and covered with a thin layer of sealant that would melt away in the mild heat of the human body temperature. When it mixed with the sealant and sweat, it became airborne gas again.”

“He must have been at that mask manufacturer for weeks then.” Avery replied, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Why haven't we heard about anyone there dying?”

“Chances are we will after tonight. He can poison people with substances that make them highly susceptible to suggestion too. He probably used the workers at the factory without them even knowing it if he could control the people in charge. But he doesn't need them any more after tonight.”

Her legs still felt a little shaky, but Avery got up and followed him as he went to pull the heavy armored suit out of the storage case, being careful not to touch anything. Bruce turned back to her before he began to get dressed, his hand resting carefully on her cheek, as if he were afraid another tremor or two would betray him at any minute.

“I want you to stay here with Alfred. I have work to do.”

“I know.” She replied with a nod. “But I need to go too. Jim Gordon needs to know what is going on. I'm going to go home and change, then go to the office.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her mouth, and Avery clung to him, aware that she was concerned for the man inside the suit, not the suit that was leaving. After a moment or two, he released her and she stepped back, sitting back down in the chair where she had been put before. She watched as he stripped away the rest of the tuxedo and pulled on the suit, blacking out the area around his eyes before putting on the cowl.

The change in him was palpable. Bruce was gone, but standing there was a different Batman too. One she knew had more than a passing concern for an innocent for her. He began pulling the sharp edged throwing stars that were shaped like his symbol from cases, and Alfred brought him several vials of the Joker Juice antidote, which he packed away in his belt. He turned towards her, standing over her before he spoke.

“Do you have the transmitter I gave you?”

Avery nodded, reaching down her cleavage. The dress only had one pocket and it had been taken up by her cell phone, car keys, and a tube of lipstick. She showed it to him and put it back as he nodded slightly.

“Keep it with you. Go straight from your apartment to the police precinct. Let Gordon know what's happening. I'm headed to the Karnival Mask Company, and if I find out anything else, I'll let him know.”

“I will.” She replied, nodding. Avery wanted to tell him to be careful, but knew how foolish it would sound after the evening they had just had.

He turned those intense, burning eyes on her, as good as a kiss goodbye, and went for the car, roaring out of the cave as if he were ready to bring hell to anyone who got in his way that night. Holding the coat around her shoulders, she stood up as Alfred approached her and took her arm gently, guiding her away from the main part of the cave to another set of steps.

“There is another way out. We will have to walk all the way around the house, but it will get you back to your car.” He said, leading her deeper into the caves.

“Will he be okay?” She asked, soft lights illuminating as they moved past them to head outside.

“He got the antidote. You both did. You'll be inoculated against the poison for thirty six hours.”

“That's not what I meant.” Avery replied softly.

Alfred squeezed her arm gently. “I know, Dr. Avery. But I don't have an answer for that question.”


	26. Collection of Innocents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

He did not know whether he was relieved that Avery was alive, or furious that Alfred had brought her down into the cave, revealing his secret. It was not that he could not trust her. He was willing to trust her with his heart, and he had not been betrayed. But now she was at an all new level of danger, knowing about his other side.

Batman only needed to think about the dead bodies piled in Wayne Manor to get angry, not that he ever needed any inspiration. But the thought of Avery hovering in that chair, Bruce's tuxedo jacket over her shoulders despite the costume wings, was fuel that would keep him going for days if necessary. His anger at the fact that Alfred had brought her down into the cave suddenly faded as he realized he would have done much more to keep her alive.

The car roared down the highway as he sped towards the city, turning on the police scanner in the car listening to the calls for ambulances. Reports of people laughing and then dying, and reports of small fires all over the city. There were not enough firefighters or paramedics to go around, not to mention not enough hazmat suits.

As he made it into the city, he saw the signal was already lit in the sky. He sped for the police department, already knowing what Gordon was going to tell him as he drove through the streets. Green clouds of Joker Juice were dissipating in the night air, but pumpkins on apartment balconies, house doorways, even decorating stores, any that had been carved and had a candle inside, were in pieces, as if they had combusted from within, and an odd green color. There were also bodies in the streets, the faces contorted into the disturbing grin all of Joker's victims had.

For now he would ignore the signal, knowing that Avery had probably called Gordon and filled him in on what was going on anyway. He needed to get to the mask factory and see if there were anyone left to help, to see if Joker was going to stay in once place and just wait for him. He knew it would be more than he could hope for. The car burned through the streets, going faster than was safe, pulling out far enough to side just to miss ambulances as they wrapped bodies in bio-hazard bags.

The Karnival Mask Company factory was in the western part of Gotham, where most of the factories were. He took the highway out to the business park, weaving in and out of traffic, horns that blared cutting off abruptly as they realized who they were honking at. He pulled up the address on the GPS in the car, heading down one of the side streets and cruising along slowly. 

He already took the antidote thanks to Alfred, but Batman still put a respirator into his cowl, mostly because as he pulled in front of the factory, he saw the cloud of Joker Juice rising from the building. He had no hopes that he would find anyone alive, but he got out of the car anyway, and walked right into the building, knowing that Joker would not be there. The doors were open, inviting people to come inside, airing out the factory, though all the infected masks had gone off even without the sealant.

The floor and equipment was littered with bodies. People slumped over where they had been working, had been talking between jobs, had been taking breaks. All of them were pale with green veins popping out on their flesh, their mouths pulled into horrible parodies of smiles. 

Batman walked body to body, and then room to room in the factory, looking for any signs of life, any sign of the Joker. There was an office in the back where a man had been dead for more than just a few hours, the body decomposing badly enough to smell. He was sitting in his chair, numerous forms on the desk and on the floor as if they had been thrown around recently.

Leaning down, he picked them up and read through them, seeing a scrawled, poorly written signature on every authorization for recalling masks that had already been sold, to pay overtime to workers, and to input a new process of making the masks. There would undoubtedly be lawsuits and the company would close down, not that anyone would want to work for them after the mass genocide in and outside of the factory doors.

The walls had also been scrawled with graffiti, just waiting for someone to see that Joker had indeed “been there”. Tucking the papers away to give to Gordon later, Batman turned and headed out of the factory. The police scanner in the car was wailing with sounds of the people of Gotham desperate for help. He had work to do.

 

"All of them. Dead." Avery said, the words choking her.

Jim Gordon was on the other side of the phone. "I need you here."

"I know, I'm going home to get changed, and then I'll get to the station." She replied.

Avery had stripped away the wings and tiara before letting Alfred help her into the car, and was now driving back into the city, phone pressed against her ear. Jim was giving direction to people before he got back onto the phone and returned to the conversation.

"Be careful. Also, we're getting reports of pumpkins on doorsteps exploding and releasing clouds of that gas. There are bodies everywhere." Jim continued grimly.

She felt her eyes suddenly burn as her heart clenched in her chest. "...There are kids out, trick or treating..."

"I know. I've already had the major news stations break into regular programming and cancel trick or treating in the city. But the children that were already out..." Jim stopped, and she could understand why he had to take a moment. It was sickening, even for Joker, to take his revenge by slaughtering children and adults alike. A tear slipped out past her eyelashes, blurring her vision as she thought about a child suffering the slow poisoning she had been subjected to earlier.

"So the pumpkins he altered." She began slowly. "They reacted with something."

"We were able to figure out that it was only pumpkins that had been carved and had a candle put inside. The heat from the candle set off the reaction that destroyed the pumpkins and released the poison." Jim continued, work talk being enough to get him over the lump in his own throat.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll wait before heading out on the streets." He replied. "And Avery, thank God you and Wayne had gone outside."

"I know." She replied, hating herself for the lie, but more so because of how her voice cracked.

Hanging up the phone, she denied herself the survivor's guilt that welled up inside at the thought that of all the people that had died while she had survived. Bruce said she had saved his life. And taking all those guests down into the cave, revealing his secret, that was not a possibility if he could help even more people with the secret of Batman still in tact. She turned a corner, avoiding an ambulance loading body bags into the back, and finally pulled up to her little apartment, sighing and taking a moment to lean her head on the steering wheel. 

She wanted to cry. Avery wanted to cry so badly, to just sob and let it out and not have to be responsible and know what she knew for just a minute or two. But she knew that now was not the time to indulge in that kind of self pity. Joker was out there somewhere, he was just waiting to be found, to be confronted. For all she knew, he was waiting in her apartment to kill her. Avery sat up, wiping her eyes and glancing in the rear view mirror, glad she had put on waterproof mascara that day.

Just as she was going to open her car door, a school bus came roaring by her, nearly taking off her door and her arm. At first she was just irritated, but then it struck her that there was no reason for a school bus to be out that late at night. Turning her car back on, she pulled out into the street again, following that poorly driven bus down the streets. It seemed like it was working in a pattern, going up and down residential streets in the midst of the city, looking for something.

As the bus hit its breaks, she slowed down, coming to a stop half a block away. If it noticed her, the driver made no sign as he opened the door and jumped out. Avery could not tell why he had stopped until she realized that the figure that had jumped out of the bus was wearing the deranged make up of one of Joker's gang, and he was running back to the bus with a struggling child under his arm. For just a moment someone else opened the door inside, and she got a wave of noise made up of tears and cries for parents, the reality of what was going on striking her suddenly.

They were going around, picking up children that had not been killed by the tainted pumpkins. She should have called Gordon. She should have used Batman's transmitter and called him too. But the bus was moving again. All she could do was put her car into drive and follow it through the city, watching as it stopped twice more, picking up children, surprised that she had not been noticed, even if she was keeping at least three car lengths away.

The bus pulled away and headed for the north east corner of the city. At first she was afraid that they were just going to drive it right into the quarry and leave the children there. But they made a sudden turn, and she knew where they were going. Avery stopped her car just outside the gates as they pulled into the quiet, unlit Gotham City Zoo, disappearing beyond the gates with a bus full of innocent children.


	27. Avery At The Zoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Avery had never been to the Gotham City Zoo before, but she felt instinctively that the lights being off was not a good sign. The animals were all agitated, roaming around in cages built of high, old fashioned wrought iron that looked as if they had been around since the 1920's. She left her car outside the gates and went inside on foot, quite aware of how ridiculous it was to still be in the costume, but she would have lost track of the bus and the kidnapped children if she had stopped to change.

The bus had woven through the zoo, knowing exactly where it was going, but Avery had not seen it after it disappeared into the darkness beyond the few emergency lights that were on. She drifted past another cage, then stopped and ducked back behind the side, hearing a commotion at the other side. A group of the painted thugs walked past her, but did not notice the woman dressed in a ball gown hiding behind the monkey enclosure. Small hands pulled at her skirt, full of curiosity, but she stuck it out until she was certain they were gone.

They had come from the fork in the zoo path that went to the left, so that was where she went when she managed to disengage the small simian hands from her dress. She walked past the elephant enclosure, and beyond the hyenas that lifted their heads, but thankfully made no noise as she passed. When she saw the bus, she was ready to jump right over the bars and down into the new enclosure, until she realized exactly where the bus had been left.

Two tawny African lions roamed close to the bus, curious not only at what had been put there, but of the noises of panic coming from inside. Avery dug into the little hidden pocket of the gown and opened her phone, instantly calling James Gordon again, impatient as the phone rang, moving to the side of the enclosure instead of standing out in the open. When he picked up, she had to let out a soft sigh of built up tension.

"Gordon."

"Jim, it's Avery." 

"Where are you?" He demanded. "I sent a patrol car to your apartment and nobody is there."

"The Gotham City Zoo. You need to get some people over here right now. He's been taking children off the streets that didn't get killed by the pumpkins. They're in a bus that he left in the lion habitat at the zoo. I'd go in and get them but the lions are already out." She explained quickly.

"...Dammit. Okay, we'll get a SWAT team out there and get the zoo handlers down there as soon as we can, but we're pressed for help. Have you seen Joker?"

"No, but I haven't had time to explore the entire-"

Avery stopped talking as a hand clenched around her wrist, plucking the cell phone from her hand. The large hand was rough and dark in the faded light, moving up to the huge shoulders wrapped with chains to the face of Killer Croc. His free hand crushed the phone, ending the call if her cry of panic had not done so for Gordon on the other end. She struggled to get away from the painful vise grip he had on her wrist, not that it did any good as he pulled her to him, grinning with that mouth of fangs, his other hand grabbing her hair painfully.

"I almost didn't believe him when he said you'd be dumb enough to come here alone if you figured it all out."

"I feel so happy for you." She muttered, quite aware of how stupid it was to smart mouth the Killer Croc.

He grinned and the hand in her hair tightened. "I can't decide what part I want to tear off first. You're not making it easy."

Avery dug into her pocket, having only her car keys and lipstick there, and grabbed the keys, an old self defense class coming to mind as she jammed them into the corner of the eye that was closest to her hand, causing him to roar in pain and drop his hold on her. Turning, she took off running, not that she made it more than a few steps before claws dug into the skirt of her dress, dropping her to her hands and knees. The sound of rending fabric was coupled with another deafening roar of anger, his claws digging into her shoulder after tearing away the delicate shawl, raking along the sleeves so the fabric fell away in ribbons.

She tried to get her legs under her, but claws in her skirt dragged her back down to the ground, and she squirmed onto her back, only to be drawn under Croc again, one eye squinted shut for now, the other yellow eye burning with murderous rage. His hands slammed down on her arms, pinning them against the ground as he crouched over her, so worked up that drool dripping into the dirt next to her head.

"Let go!" She cried, not caring how futile it was.

He grinned over her, "I bet that's what Purge was screaming just before I ate him too. You know, if he had had a tongue left."

Avery struggled in pure panic, and kicked up as hard as she could, feeling her feet hitting pelvic bone and other, more tender places in the groin. Croc roared in true pain, curling into a ball and thankfully rolling over onto his side instead of landing on top of her. She was up immediately, even though her ankle felt like it was going to explode from the connection with the monster-man's groin, running blindly at a limping pace through the dark zoo to escape if nothing else. 

The only place with lights on was the reptile house, drawing her there if only to be somewhere that she could hide. Blood was hardening on her shoulders and arms from dozens of claw marks, itching and aching painfully. Just thankful for somewhere that she could hide, she slipped inside, backing away from the glass doors as she dug the transmitter from inside the cleavage of her dress, pressing the button several times. She wished that there was some kind of audio on the thing so Batman could tell her he was on his way.

"What do you have there?"

The voice alternated between shrill hysteria and something deeper, something more terrifying. A gloved hand came around from her side and plucked the transmitter from her hand, while another shoved her, slamming her against the row of glass-front animal cages, where snakes and other reptiles sat in blissful ignorance of what was going on outside. Avery sank to her knees on the ground, looking up to see Joker standing there, resplendent in a purple suit, looking over the little transmitter.

"Oh this looks familiar. I bet I can guess who gave you this." Joker said with a chortle, flipping the transmitter into the air and catching it again. He looked down at Avery and laughed, "Hard night, doctor?"

"I've had better." She replied quietly.

Joker smiled and bowed in front of her, “Dr. Avery Reinhart, I presume. I think you know exactly who I am. Introductions are so tedious anyway.”

“It's hard to miss the genocidal maniac who has probably killed a third of the city tonight.”

He erupted into laughter, then squatted down in front of her, reaching up to straighten his hair. "Flattery gets you everywhere with me, doc. Or do you mind if I call you Avery? You look absolutely lovely though. You won't mind if I steal a kiss, will you?"

She did not have a chance to even object as he grabbed her by the back of her neck and jerked her forward, pressing his mouth against her own. When he dropped her back, Avery rubbed her hand across her mouth, her lips tingling as he stood and laughed, standing back and watching as she remained on the floor. A moment passed and his face fell, looking at her before jerking her to her feet with one angry hand.

"That is not fair. You've been with the Bat tonight, haven't you? How am I supposed to let him hear your dying laughter when you've had some of that horrible antidote he makes? Tell me that, doctor! Or don't you have an answer, like every other over-educated halfwit in this city?!" Joker asked, shaking her violently.

Avery did not answer, she knew better than to stop him in the middle of his rant. The glass doors of the reptile house squealed as they were jerked open, Killer Croc thundering in. He seethed as he walked in, hovering over her as the Joker's fingers dug into her arm painfully. She did not even see the fist coming as it slammed into her jaw, sending her reeling across the room and right into Croc's hands. 

Joker held up a hand to him, putting a finger to his lips and shooing them away as he got ready to chat with the Batman over the transmitter. Avery shrieked, but not fast enough as a huge hand clamped down on her mouth. He drew her away from Joker, looking around as if he were trying to make up his mind on something. Her fingers clawed at his hand, though it seemed to do no good at all, leaving her listening as Joker taunted Batman for the fun of it.


	28. A Dose Of Joker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

He was heading for the police precinct to find out if Gordon had any insight to what was going on when the transmitter he had given Avery went off several times in rapid succession. He could hear her breathing hard, gasping for air as if she had been running, the rustle of that dress from before. So she had never made it to the apartment. Gritting his teeth, he instantly turned the car on the next street, heading for where the signal was coming from, hitting the gas hard when he heard a familiar voice.

Joker immediately tried to kill her with the poison he wore at most times on his mouth, and got angry when he realized she had already been immunized against it. The car roared down the highway as he heard the door to where ever they were open and someone heavy move inside. There was a moment of scuffling, and the sound of knuckles hitting flesh, and Avery's cry of pain. Then a familiar voice was in his ear, speaking to him, well aware of who had given Avery the transmitter.

"You there, Bats? Of course you are. You wouldn't be able to resist keeping tabs on her after you found those photographs. I really just wanted to leave you a corpse, but this works so much better. If you were any easier you'd be standing on a street corner." He began, chortling at his own joke.

Joker was right. He had gone through all the files on the memory card, and all of the photographs were candid pictures of Avery. And at the very end, were several posed shots of Joker, kissing some of the photographs he had already had his man take of her. It was enough to keep Batman close to the woman, and unfortunately, it seemed, to put her in even more danger.

There was another scuffle, and the sound of metal clanking on metal as Joker spoke to who he was with, "Just make sure she's not going anywhere. Really, do I have to do everything myself?"

He cleared his throat, and Batman could hear the sound of metal on metal in the background again, and soft cries of pain from Avery though she was obviously trying to keep herself from doing so, knowing exactly why Joker was keeping her alive now. 

"So hard to find good help, even if he did dispose of that Purge guy so eloquently. Anyway, I'm sure you're on your way here. You're pretty good at that. So either you can come get your little girlfriend, nice choice by the way, very cute, or you can save those kids we picked up earlier. Bet you didn't know about them, did you? Well if any of them were dumb enough to open the doors there's a bunch of trick-or-treater tartar by now, but hey, the lions got fed."

Joker laughed again, this time the laughter turning into the high pitched cackling that he enjoyed when he was really enjoying himself. "And before you figure you'll just save the kids first, I think I'll just leave her here with a few friends. Snakes enjoy the scent of blood, right? I never can remember."

That was all he said before the laughter cut him off, and the signal died, the transmitter destroyed. Batman shoved his foot down on the gas, the engine roaring to life as the car jumped forward, speeding along the highway, the surface roads below clogged with cars and emergency vehicles. He squeezed the wheel until he felt the pressure inside his gloves, more than a little furious. He would find the children, he would find Avery, and then he would find Joker.

********************************************************************

Avery watched from the floor as Joker crushed the transmitter and left the pieces on the ground. Killer Croc had unwound part of the chains around his shoulders and wrapped them around her waist and arms, being none too gentle before wrapping the ends around the pipes of the system that kept the reptile house humid and warm, locking them together with an old padlock. Her face ached where Joker had punched her right back into Croc's hands, the claws tearing new holes in her side and shoulder, before clamping a hand over her mouth as she realized Joker was tormenting Batman with the transmitter.

Croc leaned down, grinning as his long tongue slid along her bare shoulder and cheek. "Maybe just one bite for now."

"Crooooc..."

Avery shuddered as Croc looked up to see Joker standing behind him, tapping his foot. 

"What?"

"She's not useful if she bleeds out. Leave her alone."

Croc began to grumble. "Told me I could do what I wanted with her."

"Hey, if she doesn't die and we kill the Batman, you can take her to the Plaza for all I care." Joker said, patting Croc's shoulder. “But for now, you leave her the hell alone or I'll make a new pair of boots out of your hide.”

The lizard man growled in his throat, and it looked as if he were going to defy Joker for a moment, but then he left her alone, turning to slam through the doors of the reptile house again. Joker shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a large monkey wrench in the corner for adjusting the temperature of the pipe system. He put it over his shoulder as he looked down at her.

“Sometimes he's so impatient.”

“How did you get the pumpkins on the doorsteps?” She asked, desperate to keep him talking.

“Oh, that was easy enough. We just dumped them into bins at grocery stores that already had pumpkins. None of the morons even thought that it was odd that they suddenly had more than they started with. And people just picked them up. Just like the masks.”

He lifted her hand with the bandaged fingers with the end of the wrench, “Though I think you know that too.”

Avery shifted away from him, only causing Joker to lean over and yank painfully on her hair, so that she was still watching him. "Doc, you're a nice lady. You're trying to help kids and stuff, and I get that, I do. But you're also damn convenient."

He took the wrench as he looked through the glass fronts of the cages, and began smashing them open, making sure he got all the ones he wanted before walking back to her. He had the wrench over his shoulder again, but only for a moment before he suddenly swung it down, cracking it against her leg, making her cry out in pain, the ankle that had already been hurting now burning in agony. He grinned as he did it, whistling as he struck her again, listening for her cry with one hand to his ear.

"I also have to admit that people like you, getting your happily ever after, all that garbage, make me kind of sick. So you sit here like a good girl and try not to screw up anything else." He said, his voice dipping low again, dangerous, just before he began laughing with a hysterical ring to it. 

Turning, he whistled, heading out of the reptile house, kicking the door open and chuckling all the way out. The tears that found their way onto her cheeks were from the aching pain in her leg, making tracks down her cheeks, making her head ache worse than it already did. He had not broken her leg, miraculously, but she would not be walking on it without help for a while. Avery felt herself shaking, struggling against the chains that were painfully tight around her ribs, bruising her arms and wrists. 

Eventually, she just leaned her head against her arms, the pipes surprisingly cool on the outside. As she opened her eyes, she could hear the sound of something smooth brushing against the broken glass and the walls of the reptile room. She watched as several snakes began exploring the area outside the glass, tongues moving, nostrils wide and inhaling the scent of blood and sweat and other snakes. She watched as a few snakes she did not recognize slowly oozed from their homes, down to the ground, exploring.

Her hands began to shake as one she did recognize began to slip down to the floor. The King Cobra got down to the floor, and began sniffing the air with its tongue, turning and moving in her direction. Though her leg screamed in pain as she did it, Avery pulled herself as close to the pipes as she could. Moving any more would have only gotten the snake's attention as it slowly moved across the floor.


	29. Batman At The Zoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Batman saw Avery's car parked outside the gates of the Gotham City Zoo, which sat wide open despite the fact that the season was over. He parked his own vehicle, but not nearly as close to out in the open as her. Instead, he slid the car into the brush at the side of the road and went around the back of the zoo.

The children were in the lion enclosure, and Avery would be in the reptile house. Joker was too pleased with himself to have any alternative plans. The Gotham City Zoo did not have any Inland Taipans or Black Mambas, but it had plenty of other venomous snakes. None of which would kill her faster than he could get to her. He hated himself for his own hardness, but both Bruce and Batman knew that Avery would want him to go after the children first.

There was no sign of police presence at the zoo, though he had called Gordon and told him he was on the way. The police commissioner was on his way, SWAT and other teams coming with him, though it would have probably been too late by the time they got there with the professionals. He felt his face pull into a grimace as he climbed into the lion cage in front of him, the habitat made to look like an African savannah, complete with caves inside cliffs as homes for the lions.

It was all sunk into the ground and surrounded by tall iron fencing that not even the lions could climb, but the bus had been driven in through the wide hallway in which they used to move the animals for veterinary visits and feeding time. Batman climbed up over the cliffs, standing at the top as he looked through night vision binoculars to watch as two female lions paced around the bus, a male sitting close by, watching.

The windows were up on the bus, the door still shut but dented in. One or two more tries with those long claws and it would open, and the predators would find the prey they were so interested in. He put the binoculars away and shot a grappling line across the enclosure, intending on dropping down onto the bus, opening it from the top and pulling the children out one by one and getting older ones to help him. A second line went across, and he tested them both before hooking a handle to the bottom line, making sure it would hold his weight.

Batman was about to swing across to the bus when he heard the faintest sound of a foot grinding sand into rock. He turned just in time to manage to not get his head torn off by one of Killer Croc's claws, dodging into a roll just in time. Coming up on his feet, he dodged another swipe with the claws and struck out, curling his right fist so that the plates of armor aligned like brass knuckles before he sank it into Croc's stomach.

Killer Croc stumbled backward, grinning as he straightened, licking his lips for a moment, “I gotta tell you, when I licked my claws clean, she tasted just like a helpless baby deer. Tender and afraid.”

It was a typical tactic, taunting, and not unexpected. But Avery would still be alive. Joker would not have let Croc ruin the fun he was having. Fists clenched, he let Croc come to him again, avoiding claws as the huge man lizard roared at him in challenge. Chains rattled across his shoulders, wrapped around his upper arms, and he took several swipes at Batman. He should have been much slower than he was for his bulk, but Batman was not about to underestimate him.

He took little chances when he could, getting inside Croc's admittedly small guard, a strike or two, not that it did more than anything he expected. Batman kept moving, aware of the edge of the cliff, aware of the lions below who were as interested now in the figures above as the children in the bus. He circled, trying to find a way to get behind Croc, to get some kind of hold on him as he had when he had been in sewers. 

The lizard man was anxious, obviously trying to get his hands on Batman, trying to squeeze the life out of him or snap his neck. His jaws worked, open and shut, trying to rip out pieces of flesh each time Batman got close. But he managed to get out of the way with little more than a few claws to the shoulder, and a line of blood along his left thigh. But keeping up this pace would get tiring after a while, and not even he would be able to dodge Killer Croc forever.

The silence of the enclosure was suddenly broken as the cries of fifty frightened children reached him. Claws dug into metal, and he knew that the lions were trying for the bus doors again. That moment of distraction was all Croc needed, throwing himself into a tackle that landed in Batman's stomach. The two of them went over the edge of the cliff, crashing down into the main part of the lion enclosure.

Batman managed to get Croc beneath him and tucked into a roll as the crocodile man took the brunt of the fall, Batman rolling until he hit a tree. Groaning quietly at the pain lancing his back, he managed to get up, making sure nothing was broken in the process. Croc was getting up as well, pushing himself to his hands and knees, then onto his feet, pulling off the chains wrapped around his shoulders, turning towards Batman with the chain swinging slowly.

Time was running out for the children in the bus, who had all crowded at the back and side of the bus, not only to be away from the front doors, but to watch what was going on outside in the faded light of the moon and the emergency zoo lights. Batman managed to straighten, ignoring the pain, working through it no matter what, dismissing every little cry of his back and his joints.

Croc swung the chain and he dodged to the left, dodging to the right to avoid another swing. A third came at his head directly, swung over Croc's head and he ducked down, sweeping his leg out and catching the back of Croc's knee, sending him down to the ground. Fists aligned again, he rolled backward onto his feet and brought his fist up as hard as he could, his own bones rattling as his fist slammed into Killer Croc's rock-hard skull at the jaw.

Tipping over from his knees, Croc lost his grip on the chain and Batman was already there, scooping it up. He leapt onto Croc's back and swung the chain around, catching it with his other hand, the links wrapped around the thick, scaly neck. There was no water for Croc to roll around in this time, so as his air was cut off, he ran full on for the hard stone sides of the enclosure, trying to flip Batman from his back.

When he was unable to move the armored body from his back that way, he turned around, slamming them both bodily into the wall. Batman felt ribs cracking and spinal discs screaming each time he was crushed between the poured cement walls and Croc's body, pieces of the cement flaking off after the second impact. His armor was already pushed to its limit, he would start feeling ribs break apart soon, and organs being crushed after that.

Pulling as hard as he could, he felt his muscles pull at his shoulders, strain against the armor on his arms. He had to do more than just slowly cut off the air, he had to end it completely. The new pressure on his throat made Croc nearly frenzy, slamming into the wall from the side this time, nearly shattering Batman's elbow in the process, opening a cut on his own forehead.

Warm blood dripped down his face as he began to stagger, his thrashing having used up the air that he had been storing when it was cut off completely. For a moment his muscles were ready to give out, but Batman tightened them again, refusing to let Croc have even half a breath that would keep him moving another five minutes. He did not have another five minutes in him.

The next two minutes felt like two hours to every aching part of his body as Croc clawed at him, tearing his cape, digging into the flesh of his sides beyond the armor. He felt blood welling up inside his suit, but ignored it as Killer Croc finally dropped to his knees, and then planted his own face into the dirt. Holding on just a minute more, just to make sure, Batman slowly got off the beast of a man and wrapped the chains around him, as many as he could manage, locking them together by welding them quickly.

He slowly stood and dragged the unconscious Killer Croc over to the doors where they had driven the bus inside and opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked. He left Croc lying on the ground and turned back to the bus. He would have to work fast to get the children out, and get Croc secured before he regained consciousness. Batman began limping towards the bus, and a communal scream was all he got in warning before a lioness pounced on him.

Both Batman and lion dropped to the ground, vicious claws tearing through his chest plating after he managed to get his forearm wedged into the large cat's mouth, keeping it from tearing out his throat. Groping on his belt, he felt for the spray he kept for the people who used attack dogs, something that would not harm the animal but drove it back. He thumbed off the cap and gave the lioness a face of bone meal essence and castor oil, which sent it darting away almost immediately. 

Getting to his feet, he saw the other lioness from before stalking him slowly, and he sprayed again, this time at the cat's feet. The smell was enough to drive it off as well. A growl behind him revealed the male, now ready to come defend the females of its pride. Batman turned, standing still as the large cat prowled forward, his eyes catching the gleam of the golden irises of the lion.

The cat stopped, watching him as well, the eye contact enough that the beast was slightly intimidated. Batman could hear noise behind him, and he put his hand back without turning his head, spraying the animal repellant spray behind himself. The other two lions backed off again, leaving him staring down the male lion once again. Slowly, he pulled his arms to his body and just stood there, waiting, never losing that eye contact that was keeping the animal from charging.

Finally, it just turned and walked away, going to settle on a rock away from the bus and away from the Batman. After another moment, he turned and walked to the bus, climbing on top easily. The children inside were still sobbing, but it had gotten quieter, and he was able to pull open the roof emergency exit, dropping down inside. 

They swarmed him, all of them in some kind of Halloween costume, clutching him with small hands, more sobbing with relief than anything else now. He took a moment and let them cling, before he picked out two of the older ones, pointing at them. 

“You and you. I need your help.”

The two boys instantly straightened, faces suddenly full of almost uncontainable hope and excitement at being asked to personally help the Batman. He pointed at the first one.

“You'll lift the smaller ones up to me on the roof of the bus.” He pointed to the other one, “You'll be outside the enclosure to help pull them up as I guide them across. Can you two do that?”

They nodded quickly, and Batman held out a hand to the second boy, hoisting him into the emergency exit. The boy climbed out, and he pulled himself up, ignoring the shoulder that wanted to quit on him, the one with the claw marks from Croc. Standing on top, he got ready to fasten the belt around the boy to guide him across the wires he had already put in place when lights came on all over the enclosure.

Batman looked up, and saw the familiar figure of James Gordon standing at the fence of the lion enclosure, other officers there with him. Help had finally arrived. He pushed the first child across to be caught by the officer already on the inside of the fence, waiting to help.


	30. One Last Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

Paramedics and police officers were wrapping children in blankets, getting the youngest of the group soft toys that they kept in the ambulance for such occasions as Batman climbs out of the enclosure, finding Gordon immediately. The officers around the police commissioner backed away, knowing better than to hang around when the Batman was there. Gordon was doing his best to ignore the blood stains on his suit. 

"Killer Croc is in the hallway that leads to the enclosure. The bonds aren't very strong and he'll be regaining consciousness soon." Batman said.

"Team A, get down into the entrance hallway to the lion enclosure to pick up Killer Croc. He's unconscious but will be waking soon." Gordon instantly said into the walkie talkie in his hand. A group of the SWAT members instantly took the heavy duty equipment from the back of one of their vans and went down to find the entrance so they could get Killer Croc under control before he woke.

Batman turned to go, Gordon walking after him. "Where are you going?"

The dark eyes were burning as he looked back over his shoulder. "Avery is still here somewhere. So is the Joker."

He left Gordon standing alone as he disappeared into the darkness of the zoo, heading for the reptile house, where he knew she would be waiting for him. The lights from the building shone like a beacon in the darkness, calling to anyone foolish enough to go for it. He doubted he had time to find some way in other than the front doors, not that he thought this was anything but a trap. Joker had not shown his face yet, but that only meant he was waiting until he had an advantage to do so. 

Stopping at the door, he opened it slowly, his eyes instantly settling on the trembling figure of Avery. She was a mess of dried blood and torn fabric, her cheek blossoming with a bruise, a length of chain wrapped around her torso and up her arms, chaining her to the pipe system that kept the reptile house hot and humid. He took a step inside, and the sound of a rattle made him stop, the floor suddenly coming to life with snakes slowly moving along the floor.

*******************************************************************

Avery had given up trying to keep an eye on every single snake that had come out of the smashed tanks. But most of them seemed more interested in checking each other out than coming for her. A few had oozed over her legs slowly, and curled up behind the pipes, preferring the dark hiding spots. From that point, she had not dared move, for fear they would strike her if she even shifted. Her legs, especially the one that Joker had beaten, ached painfully, but she was too afraid to even move to get the relief there.

The door opened, but she did not lift her head from her arms until she heard the rattle of the Sidewinder snake that had crawled into the far corner to sit for easier and smaller prey than her. Avery looked up, then shuddered in relief before she could stop herself, Batman standing in the doorway. He did not look any better than she did, but he was there, he had come for her. She froze again as something slowly slithered across her ankle, cool and smooth and coming to a stop just as it left her flesh. 

"Don't move." He said quietly.

She nodded, her head leaning back against the pipes again. He reached behind his back to somewhere on his belt, and pulled out a small canister with a pull tab on it. He looked around the room and spoke again.

"Hold your breath as long as you can."

Avery took a deep breath, and watched as he pulled the tab on the canister. Gas began flowing out of the can and he set it down on the ground, clouding around in the room, but remaining low to the ground from the angle of the canister. The snakes that were moving slowly came to a stop, the rattle stopping as well, the gas filling the air. Her lungs were already protesting, but she watched as the animals slowly dropped where they were. After another moment, he pulled the can off the floor and tossed it out the door, slowly making his way across the room of sleeping animals.

She slowly let out the breath she had been holding, feeling a little light headed but not as effected as the snakes. He hovered over her, pulling the small torch he had used to fuse the chains around Killer Croc out again to cut through the padlock that was keeping in her place. Avery wanted so badly to be free that she barely noticed when something went brushing by her skirt until it came to a stop on her ankle, sitting there for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the slender body of something rise, sitting on her ankle, the hood of the king cobra opening.

"Batman..." She whispered softly. "Ankle...on my ankle..."

He stopped where he was, pressing the small torch into her hand just to hold it for him, and he stopped any other movement, frozen as the cobra continued to watch him at the ready, hood spread. She knew that while the cobra was watching him, he could not move, and while his armor was strong, it was flexible enough that it might find a place to strike, and then they were both in trouble. Avery looked up at him, then smiled, closing her eyes, mostly because if she did not smile after making this decision, she was going to sob at how stupid it was. Joker was right, she always was trying to do the right thing.

Avery rattled the chains, moving her upper body so that the king cobra's head turned instantly to her instead of concentrating on Batman. She saw the snake's head bobbing back and forth as it hissed at her, daring her to move again. She wanted to see if this was going to help anything, but it was impossible to take her eyes from the creature, watching as it rose up higher, ready to strike. The snake jerked forward, and she got ready to feel the fangs in her flesh, but it never happened.

Looking up, she saw that the cobra had been caught on its way, a black gloved hand stopping it right behind the snake's head. Silently he snapped the snake's neck, setting it aside, and taking the torch from her. Without a word he cut through the padlock, careful not to let the hot metal get near her hands, unwinding the chain around her body, letting her hands fall to her body. He then searched her skirts, what was left of them, for any other snakes before stopping, looking at the horrific bruise spreading down her leg from her knee down to the swollen ankle. Frowning, he put an arm against her back, and another under her knees, lifting her up into his arms.

She was light-headed from a combination of relief, of being moved, and from her wounds, enough so that she just let him pick her up without protesting, her head dropping against his shoulder, one hand coming up to hold onto his other shoulder. Avery felt his arms tighten around her, and she felt herself shudder again as he began picking his way out of the floor littered with sleeping snakes.

"The children..."

"Safe." He said tersely.

"...Thank you for going to them first. I knew you would come eventually."

His arms just squeezed her again, and he pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold night air. Avery shivered, closing her eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to just pass out. She forced her eyes open, glancing up as something flashed in the emergency lights of the zoo. She barely had time to cry out before the wrench swung down on Batman from the limb of the tree they had just passed under.

"Duck!"


	31. The Final Punchline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

She was alive, she was safe in his arms. Batman carried Avery out of the reptile house, being careful not to harm any of the other snakes. The cobra had been a shame, but even tossing the snake would have given it time to just come back or get away, and it was a dangerous animal. She had rested her head against his shoulder, the absolute trust enough to make him hold her closer. 

He would find somewhere safe for Avery and go back for Joker. Thousands were dead, children were orphans, parents were without their children. He would find that madman and make him pay before he sent him back to Arkham in casts and a straight jacket. Batman glanced down again, looking from the bruise on her face to the cuts on her arms and sides down to the bruises on her leg, holding her a little tighter as her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Avery looked up at him, her eyes suddenly opening wide. She shouted a warning and it was the only reason that he took the blow from the wrench between his shoulder blades rather than the back of his head. Batman stumbled forward, but easily caught himself, re-balancing without dropping Avery to the ground. She was holding onto him as he turned around, Joker dropping down onto the ground, spinning the wrench in his hand.

“Aww, it's so precious. Did you plan on riding off into the sunset too? I think there's a zebra around here somewhere.” Joker said, cackling.

Batman put Avery down gently, helping her sit down, as her leg was obviously not going to hold her weight. Bruised muscle, if there was enough of it, could be as painful as a broken bone if it were in the right place, such as a part of the body that held up the entire weight of a person when standing. She had enough sense to scoot as far out of the way as possible, off the path and into the decorative brush.

He turned, only in time to stop Joker from hitting him with the wrench again, catching it with the razor sharp blades on his forearm. Batman flexed his arm, throwing the wrench aside as he reached back with his other arm, bringing in the clenched fist before Joker could react. Armored fist connected with that pale white jaw and Joker stumbled back, almost falling but managing to stay on his feet, rubbing his face.

“That didn't pack the...punch it normally does.” Joker managed, before cracking up at his own pun. “What's the matter, hmm? Had a hard night?”

“Killer Croc is in custody.” Batman said quietly, “The children are safe. The only thing you've accomplished is getting back into Arkham tonight.”

Joker shook his head, “Au contraire, mon...Batman. I'm pretty sure I made a point. Look at the absolute desolation. The dejection. The misery. Think maybe one or two of those parents who had to pick up their kids' bodies or children who are going to go home and find nothing but cops there might feel like that? Then my point is made!”

He laughed, nearly doubling over. “It's almost...it's almost like being thrown in a cell where they're watching you all...the...TIME.”

After a moment he was able to straighten up, putting the wrench on his shoulder again. “And you have to admit, it's nice when a plan comes together. I mean, seriously, all I had to do was perform mass genocide on a holiday where people are in costume anyway and it's like we're all on stage.”

Joker turned and began to do a little dance, before turning back to Batman, only to get a fist right in the stomach. Batman had heard enough of his ranting and had taken advantage of the moment Joker had given him. There was no more pulling punches now, no matter how much it hurt. Because the pain he felt was at least a sign that he was still alive. There were tiny body bags being unloaded in the morgues right now, children who would never feel anything ever again. His home was full of dead bodies, of friends even if none of them really knew him. 

Despite his pain, he could still walk, unlike the woman who was still aware enough to have hidden herself from this fight, the same woman who had trusted him to come for her and carry her out of the insanity of the night. He was still on his feet while there were parents out there that would fall to their knees at the news that their child had been pointlessly murdered that night, that there were children who would suffer loss as poignant as his own that night. His knee came up and struck Joker's jaw, and his fist crunched nose cartilage as Joker stumbled back.

Blood slowly streamed from Joker's nose as he tried to straighten up and had to hold his stomach again, the muscles there obviously rebelling from the blow they had just received. But he was trying to laugh, still clinging to that wrench as he managed to get out a word or two.

“Now there's the anger. Maybe you haven't been popped in a cage yet, but eventually. You'll probably even be my neighbor. Then we can feel this again together.” He managed. “By the way, were you carrying the doc out because you wanted a moment to cuddle your snuggle bug, or because she couldn't walk?”

Batman grabbed the front of his suit, ready to toss him back against one of the cages when the momentarily stunned Joker suddenly brought up the wrench, swinging it down hard on his shoulder that had already been injured by Killer Croc and further by the lioness. He dropped the handful of suit and ended up on his knees as the wrench finally broke the ribs that Croc had cracked for him before.

Joker laughed, the sound hysterical and joyful as he brought down the wrench again, the sickening thud landing on Batman's back, right where the neck met the shoulders. Batman felt his arms and legs go numb for a moment, afraid that his spine had been damaged, only barely managing to stay on his hands and knees until Joker kicked him twice in the stomach, putting him out on the ground.

“Well, this isn't any fun...” Joker said after a moment, frowning. “Better give you a minute to get back into fighting order. You won't want to kill me if I'm not doing something horrible to someone else.”

His arms were slowly beginning to get feeling back as he watched Joker turn and march directly over to where Avery had been hiding. Batman heard her cry of pain as Joker dragged her out into the open by her long auburn hair, dropping her right in his line of sight as he tried to get his arms and legs working again after the blow to his spine. Joker whistled as he turned the wrench in his hand, watching for a moment as Avery attempted to scoot away from him, obviously amused at the fear in her expression.

A second or two was all he took to enjoy it, and Joker lifted the wrench to bring it down on the helpless woman, the animals in the near-by cages causing noise in a dissonance of chaos over the scent of blood in the air and the aggressive motions. Batman reached to his belt and forced his fingers to work, to remove one of the sharp-edged throwing stars shaped like a bat and hurl it through the air.

The scream from Joker as the batarang went through the flesh of his hand was more a cackle than anything else. He dropped the wrench, which hit the ground hard just inches from Avery, and he pulled his hand to his body, trying to remove the piece of metal that was wedged between the slender bones of his hand. Avery had enough sense to reach out and shove the wrench as far away from Joker as she could.

Batman managed to get his legs under his body, even if they were not fully working again, and propelled himself over the prone woman, tackling Joker and knocking the air from his lungs so the madman could not even laugh. Pinning him down, he lifted a fist and felt Joker's jaw crack with the first blow. His weight kept Joker from drawing a full breath, so there was nothing but a pathetic hiccup of laughter every once in a while as he continued to pummel his face until his hand felt numb again.

Joker was no longer moving beneath him, his face a mess of blood, but he was still breathing. Looking up, Batman saw that Avery had pulled herself to one of the cages, belonging to a harmless family of foxes, and was trying to get onto her feet. Instead of the horror he expected to see in her face, there was nothing but pain as she tried to stand on her injured leg, eventually just having to stand on the one leg before she looked back at him.

He turned the unconscious psychopath over and used zip ties to secure his hands before getting up and walking over to her, the two of them shrouded in the darkness of the night, his hand shaking ever so slightly as he touched her cheek. Avery looked up at him, one hand leaving the bars of the cage to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth, before she threw herself into his arms, clinging to him.

Bruce wanted to cling back. Batman had a reputation to maintain. He had to be hard and cold while he was hope for a city, the only hope it had sometimes. And for once that could settle in with what Bruce wanted as well. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her head to his shoulder in a way he would never attempt if there were anyone around but animals. He almost did not hear her when she finally spoke, having to put together the words in his own head.

“...Is it over?”

“He's still breathing. But he's going back to Arkham Asylum.” Batman replied, hoping the answer would satisfy her.

“I know.” Avery said softly. “You would never kill anyone.”

He did not feel the need to reply to that. Her faith in him had been rewarded, the two of them were alive and so was Joker, though he would be a long time in healing within the insane asylum. Batman slipped his arm beneath her knees and picked her up again, feeling her hand sliding away from his shoulder. He looked down to make sure she had not passed out from some unknown internal bleeding, but she managed to smile up at him before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Nobody can know.” She managed quietly.

There was something bittersweet in how she accepted the idea that he would never show her the affection he wanted while he was in the suit. It left a mark on his heart even as he walked her out of the zoo and into the lights of the waiting emergency services. He deposited her on a stretcher, Jim Gordon immediately at her side, shouting orders and getting paramedics over to her as well.

Batman disappeared into the darkness in the midst of people running to get Joker into custody, and others rushing to put away the still sleeping poisonous snakes, the children watching in awe as he walked out of the darkness with a woman still dressed like a princess and the officers keeping them under control. But he knew one pair of sympathetic, grateful eyes were watching him as he vanished so that he could limp home and take care of his own wounds, visible and otherwise.


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular Batman world is an amalgam of different sources that I picked and chose from. Batman and all established characters property of their respective owners. All original characters owned by me. Any similarities between these characters and the dead or the living are purely coincidental.

When all the bodies had been counted, the families told, the children put into the system, Wayne Manor aired out, the death toll was just under seven thousand. Between the pumpkins exploding on doorsteps and people getting poisoned, the masks burning and poisoning people, and the petty thugs taking advantage of the lack of police presence, it had been impossible to keep up with the havoc that Joker had wreaked. The morgues were full all over the city, the mortuaries and cemetery employees working overtime. 

The Joker and Killer Croc were returned to Arkham Asylum. After Avery's testimony and Killer Croc's willing bragging of what had happened to the serial cop killer named Purge, all searches were ended, especially when his bones showed up in the sewers, with teeth marks on them. Bruce visited Avery in the hospital every day, knowing that the chances of her leaving now that Joker was back behind bars and Purge was gone were very good.

Nights were quiet out on patrol, even two weeks later, when the first snow began to fall in Gotham City in the middle of November. Ribs were healing. Bruises were gone. Cuts had healed closed and given way to fresh scar tissue, puckered and pink, fresh reminders of things that had gotten out of control. Snow crunched under the tires of his car, the streets slowly turning white as the snow hid the misery of the city for a while. For a while the city would be blanketed, white and pure, and for a little while it would be under the illusion of the happy streets of a snow globe world.

He pulled the car over, watching quietly as an old man shivered over a dying barrel fire. Getting out of the car, he approached the homeless man, who looked up for a moment, then went back to trying to warm his hands. Batman stopped, then held his own hands over the fire.

"Cold night." The old man said, covering his mouth before coughing. "But the first snow is always nice. Makes the place look kinda clean for a while."

"Good night for a fire." Batman replied, even though it was just barely below freezing outside. Not nearly as bad as some of the nights in Gotham City during the dead of winter.

The homeless man did not look afraid, more than anything, he looked as if he were just pleased to have company. "Good night to be inside. You should be inside too. Even if you don't have anyone to go home to."

Batman was silent after that. Going home, even to an empty home, was better than being out in the snow, in the cold. And if he wanted, it would not be alone. Maybe he had more to be thankful for than he wanted to admit as he thought about the limited amount of time he had with Avery, of the balance he had managed to achieve no matter how long it had lasted. He put his hand out to the old man, looking up after a moment.

"Let's get you in somewhere warm." He said, waiting patiently.

The old man hobbled over, and Batman put a guiding arm along his shoulders, walking him a few blocks over to a homeless shelter that Bruce Wayne sponsored. He took the old man to the back door, knocking on it gently. As it opened, he shot his grappling gun over the building and disappeared, so the woman behind the door would only have the homeless man to deal with. Batman walked across the roof, his boots still going through the snow to the gravel on the roof. He went from roof to roof, until he got back to the car, noticing when he sat back down that there was a message from Alfred on the non-emergency line.

"Sir, Dr. Avery is at the house. She said she will wait until you arrive home."

The message ended, and he was already turning the car around. She had been discharged from the hospital a couple of days ago, but had been busy filing reports and handling reporters for James Gordon. They had been unable to see each other since she was lying in a hospital bed, her leg propped up to keep the blood circulating with the nerve damage Joker had done. He headed back for the manor, driving a little faster than was necessary.

When he got back, he did not take the time to shower, instead just pulling on slacks and a sweater before emerging from the cave to find Alfred waiting for him with his winter coat as well as a glass of orange juice. Bruce downed the orange juice, then took the coat, looking at it.

Alfred very kindly refrained from rolling his eyes, "Dr. Avery is out walking in the garden."

Bruce smiled and pulled on the coat. "Thanks Alfred. Has she been waiting long?"

"I called you as soon as she arrived, Master Bruce. I noticed you returned promptly."

He had to smile again, heading for the glass doors out to the gardens. "The right reason, Alfred."

Bruce stepped out into the snow, buttoning up his coat and pushing his hands into his pockets. It was easy to follow Avery's foot steps in the snow, revealing the slight limp she was still walking with. He found her sitting in the old gazebo that he had refused to pull down, a place of memories from his parents. During the spring and summer, it was covered with vines of morning glories, but now it was blanketed in snow. She was sitting on a bench she had cleaned of snow, dressed in a wool coat and the first pair of jeans he had ever seen her wear. She was also wearing a ridiculous winter hat that made it hard to take her seriously, what with the rabbit ears on it and all.

He walked into the gazebo, sitting down next to her. She smiled, the bruising on her face all but gone, as he carefully removed the glove from her left hand and held it in his own, sitting quietly with her. He knew she had something to tell him, or she would have told him not to rush home.

"...They expect me back in Metropolis in three days."

Bruce squeezed her hand gently, "I thought you might have to leave soon."

She turned to look back at him, "My job here is done. At first we thought it might take months. But both Jim and I underestimated how...insane he was. And my job is really in Metropolis."

"I'm sure I could find a way to get Gordon to offer you the same position here."

Avery turned away from him, "Or you could come to Metropolis. We have our own hero. You could just be a normal man."

His hand held her own tighter. He had heard this request before. And he knew what his answer was going to be even before she finished speaking. "...You know I can't do that, Avery. Gotham, the people here, they need someone to fight for them."

Her lips were trembling slightly as she squeezed his hand back, looking at him. "I know. But I had to say it, to ask."

She leaned against his side, and Bruce put his arm around her shoulders. She was soft and warm against him, smelling like the lightly floral perfume that she always wore, her hair tickling at his jaw even with the ridiculous hat on. More than anyone, he knew that everything had an end. If this was where his balance between a real life and being the Batman ended, he at least knew what it felt like. He had had his moment or two of happiness, and he knew that he could touch it again.

“Hammish Forsythe.”

“Pardon?” Bruce asked, glancing down at her.

“That was Purge's real name. Hammish Forsythe. I spent some time at work looking through records that matched the story he told me. And the dental records matched. I gave Alfred a copy of the information to give to you. I thought he should be buried next to his wife. He was crazy, and evil, and he killed a lot of good people, but think about what happened to him. That kind of pain...it either destroys a person, or they get strong enough to move on.”

Bruce tipped her head back, not surprised to see that her eyes were glossy. He pressed his mouth against her own, relishing the feel of the softness, the flavor of the light gloss she wore that smelled like some kind of warm baked good. After a moment of that she silently put her head back on his shoulder, reaching up to wipe away something from her cheek. He was not worried though. She would be strong enough to put the memories, the nightmares behind her.

"I love the first snow of the year." Avery said softly, the silence broken for a time. "Everything looks fresh and new. I never really did like the idea of winter meaning death. It's just time for the world to rest."

"Me neither." He replied. He held her a little closer, "Stay the night. With me."

"Who else would I stay with?" She asked softly.

Avery wrapped an arm around his chest, his chin coming to rest on her head as it found the hollow between his shoulder and his neck. There it was, one more time. The balance between duty and life. They sat out in the garden, watching the snow drift down slowly over the sleeping plants, until Alfred came out and set two mugs of hot chocolate on the table. Bruce knew he would watch her drive away tomorrow, probably out of his life forever. One more that got away. But he had this moment with her now, despite Purge, despite Joker, despite Killer Croc. 

She took one of the mugs and handed it to him before taking her own and curling back beneath his free arm. Bruce held her again, knowing that the time would come that she would leave him. But Avery seemed just as content to share the time together before she left. For once, someone did understand, and both parts of his mind were at peace. Even if it were only for a few hours on a snowy night.


End file.
